Rebirth I: Truths
by psquare
Summary: A strange dream... mysterious visions... horrifying truths and revelations that would change his life forever... Steven Wakefield begins his magical journey. COMPLETE.
1. Vision

**Rebirth I: Truths**

_**Chapter 1**_

"_Everything isn't what it seems._"

The words floated toward his ears on the chill, wafting wind, sending shivers down his spine. The glittering town of Sweet Valley was spread out in front of him, and the serene sea stretched out beyond, toward the horizon, and the moon's rays reflected softly off it. The voice sounded again, deep, rich and ethereal, repeating what he'd just heard.

_What does that mean?_ He wondered.

He stepped forward on the tall building he seemed to be standing on, mesmerised. The stars above twinkled down on him, almost teasingly, as if holding the secret he wanted so desperately to know.

"Who are you? What do you mean? Show yourself!" he shouted into the night.

"_You wouldn't want to know, but you'll know soon._"

"Huh?" His head throbbed and supernovas seemed to flare behind his eyes. He reached out in front of him, his fingers flailing in nothing more than the chill night air. "I _want_ to know!" he shouted, and stepped further. His sneaker skidded, and the ominous cracking of the stone he was standing on sounded. Suddenly, it crumbled to nothingness, and he toppled over, slowly, the wind playing with his dark-brown hair.

The ground rushed up at him…

The voice sounded again, melancholy and enchanting. It was _feminine._

"_My son…_"

His lips parted to take in a gasp, before the darkness enveloped him completely.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Seventeen year old Steven Wakefield sat up with a start on his bed, to be greeted by the pleasant sight of early morning sunlight streaming into his bedroom-- quite opposite to the strange dream he'd just had. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, relieved that it had all been some crazy dream.

_Wonder what I had for dinner last night._ He hugged his knees to his chest, closed his eyes, and rocked himself back and forth for a few minutes, pulling himself together. Finally, taking a few deep breaths, he got up from the bed and entered the bathroom.

He splashed some water on his face, and stared at himself in the mirror above the basin, noting the messed-up hair, red, sleepy brown eyes and pale skin. _Thank God Tanya can't see me now_, he thought, smiling ruefully, thinking of his beautiful auburn-haired girlfriend. Nobody looked good after having just got up from bed, but this morning he looked _especially_ ugly.

He started brushing his teeth, already thinking about the day at school. As long as his Biology teacher didn't kill him for the incompletion of his latest project, it looked as if it was going to be a pretty normal day.

Somehow, deep down, however, he didn't think so.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Good Morning, everybody," Steven announced cheerfully as he entered the kitchen.

Jessica, who was already at the table, shot him a rather sour look. "Good Morning," the fourteen year old mumbled.

"Why the long face, my dear sister?" Steven asked with a smile, as he sat down at the table and his mother placed a plate of pancakes before him.

"It's none of your business," Jessica snapped, attacking her own pancakes savagely with the fork.

Steven grinned knowingly. He tapped the fork against his cheek. "Let me guess… you have a Maths test today, and you didn't study for it… as usual."

Steven knew he'd hit the nail on the head when Jessica scowled in reply and turned her attention back to her breakfast.

Their mother frowned disapprovingly. "You've been out too much this weekend, Jessica. Maybe I should introduce a curfew…"

Steven laughed at Jessica's look of absolute terror.

Just then, Elizabeth, Jessica's identical twin, and their father entered, and wished them all. Though Elizabeth and Jessica were alike in appearance, with golden blonde hair and blue-green eyes, their characters were opposite. Where Elizabeth was calm, thoughtful and academically-oriented, Jessica was impulsive, active and much less academically-oriented, though no less intelligent.

As the family settled down for breakfast, Steven found his thoughts drifting further and further away from the conversation. They would inevitably hover over the dream. He sighed and reached out to pour some syrup over his pancakes. What did it all mean? Was it some kind of omen?

He was snapped out of it when Elizabeth's amused voice sounded. "I didn't know you liked pancakes with orange juice, Steven. But they _do_ make an… _interesting_ combination."

Steven looked down with a start at his plate, where he found his breakfast drenched with orange juice, a glass of which he was holding in his hand. _Damn, I mistook the juice for syrup! _

Jessica giggled with wicked triumph at Steven's embarrassment, while their parents were more concerned. "Steven, are you all right?"

Steven stared at his soggy breakfast in silence. For the first time in his life he didn't know what to say. He definitely felt that _something_ was not right, but he couldn't possibly say some crazy dream was troubling him, could he?

He pretended to glance at his watch and gasp. He grabbed his backpack and strode toward the door. "I should be going to school," he said.

Ned, his father, looked up. "But isn't it a little too early right now?"

"I- er- have some extra work to- er- catch up on."

Before anybody could say anything else, Steven was out the door and on the sidewalk, on the way to school. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled casually. His legs carried him automatically along the way, while he stared at the ground and thought. The uniform white tiles passing below him seemed to induce some sort of hypnotised state within him. Suddenly he wasn't really aware of the physical world around him, and his mind slipped into a world of its own.

This time, it was different. He was walking down a long, dark, narrow corridor which seemed to have no end. Suddenly he spotted it- a dark, brown door half shrouded in the black. He just _knew_ that he _had_ to open it- that it would hold all his answers; that his _life_ depended on it. He broke into a run. The corridor seemed to close in around him as he ran; the door receded further and further and a sweeping sense of claustrophobia overwhelmed him.

Despite that he ran, ran, and ran… until he tripped. He fell face first on the rough harsh ground; momentary pain tore up his arm, but he didn't mind. Only one thing remained fixed in his head: _The door…_

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Steven, man, you OK?"

Steven opened his eyes to see the rough white tiles of the sidewalk underneath him. He was lying sprawled on the pavement, and he could see a pair of sports sneakers next to him. He hoisted himself back on to his feet, momentarily confused.

"Steven?"

He glanced to his side to see the owner of the sneakers- his best friend, Joe Howell, standing next to him, looking at him with concern. Steven went red in the face. _At this rate, the whole of Sweet Valley's going to think I'm a klutz._

He pasted a casual smile on his face. "Hi, Joe," he said.

"Yeah, _hi_," Joe said, smirking. "What's wrong with you, man? One moment you're running as if dogs are after you, and the next you're lying face down on the ground."

_Wish I knew._ Steven sighed. Joe's eyes flicked to Steven's elbow. "That's a nasty scar there; you'd better fix it up."

Steven glanced at his elbow, to see a long, bleeding gash. He gently ran his finger along it, almost fascinated, ignoring the pain. He saw his own blood come off on his finger, and as he stared at its smooth, deep red texture, he found his mind returning back to the door. Had it all been a hallucination, or was it trying to tell him something? What was beyond that door?

"Hey, Steve? Snap out of it. We might not make it to school on time if you're going to stand around _day-dreaming_."

"Yeah, whatever," Steven murmured, adjusting his backpack.

They walked in silence for a few moments, before Joe asked, trying to maintain a straight face, "Say, Steven, have you submitted your application for that exam yet?"

Steven stopped and his eyes widened. He remembered so well his teacher looming over him, saying:

"_Well, Mr. Wakefield, if the application comes to my office a minute after eight thirty, consider waiting another year to enter into a college._"

He glanced at his watch. _Eight twenty._

He took off in a sprint toward the direction of the school, while Joe laughed. "I knew that'd wake him up."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He went through the rest of the school day very much pre-occupied, to the annoyance and concern of his teachers and friends. He was usually a brilliant student, but somehow, today, his mind wasn't in it. He sat through class after class as if in a daze, all the time thinking about the mysterious visions he had experienced. After thinking about it for so long, he was sure that they hadn't been dreams. He was sure that they were trying to tell him something. But _what_?

At the end of the day, he heaved a sigh of relief as he closed his locker; finally, he would go home, where he could think in relative peace. "Hey Steven!" a familiar voice called.

He looked up to see Tim Gaskell, a fellow team-mate of the SVH basketball team, striding toward him. Steven smiled, rather tiredly. "Hey Tim. What's up?"

"Up?" Tim eyed him incredulously. "Basketball practice is what's up. Have you forgotten?"

Steven bit back a groan. Of course. Basketball practice. He had completely forgotten. Being the star player of the team, the Coach would never forgive him if he missed even a single practice. All that 'setting a good example for the juniors' crap.

"So, Steven, you coming?"

"Of course." Steven opened the locker to take out his gym clothes with unnecessary force. "Like I have a choice."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Look sharp, Wakefield!" the coach called, as Steven missed yet another easy pass.

Steven wiped the sweat from his brow, frustrated with himself. _What's happened to me? How can I let a stupid dream distract me from basketball?_

He stood prepared before the basket, ready to intercept the ball as a player dribbled the ball toward him. Suddenly, the gym began to contract and darken, and one by one everyone disappeared until he was the only one left. The bleachers merged into long dark walls; the whole gym into a corridor that was all too familiar. And at the end of the corridor…

_The door!_

He ran forward… he was close enough to reach out and touch it… his fingers closed around the cold knob… he threw the door open. He came to a stop, hands on knees, panting heavily. When he had regained his breath, he looked up to see he was in a large, circular white marble room, lit by an enormous chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling. The candle light caused eerie shadows across the large room, and little droplets of sweat coursed down his spine.

Finally, his eyes rested on the object present in the centre of the room. It was a large, raised slab of marble that reminded Steven of a simple tomb. Something glimmered upon the tomb. He walked over to it, his breath caught painfully in his chest. Something was written on it, with what looked suspiciously like…

_Blood!_

_Alisa McClaire. _

_Here lies the professed saviour of the Magic Clan._

_The rebirth of the clan awaits the true heir… _

Steven ran trembling fingers over the cold, unrelenting marble. _What does that mean? What is the 'Magic Clan'?_

"_This is your first step toward your true destiny._"

That voice again! Steven swirled around. "Who are you?" he yelled. "Show yourself! Please!" His voice echoed off the unsympathising stone walls. Then—

"_If you wish…_"

Suddenly the tomb glimmered, and… something… rose out of it. Steven's jaw dropped as the mist emanating from the marble materialised into the ghostly form of a beautiful woman. Her sad, soulful green eyes lifted to meet his, triggering off a star flare in his chest that dropped him to his knees.

"What…?"

Suddenly he couldn't breathe… everything blurred and a headache paraded within his skull… he just caught a glimpse of the strange, beautiful woman stroking his forehead with a hand cold as ice… before darkness dissolved everything.


	2. Revelation

_**Chapter 2**_

A sharp pain shot through the side of his head as something of a rough texture bounced off it. "Hey!" Steven howled, automatically rubbing the injured area.

"Steven, I would like to know _exactly_ why you were dreaming on the court at practice only _two weeks_ before the championship finals," a stern, all too familiar voice demanded to his side. He turned to see the Coach, and Joe, who was holding the basketball, the 'object' that had bounced off him.

Steven managed a weak smile. "Sorry, Coach, I was just a bit pre-occupied, that's all. Promise it won't happen again."

Coach Williams didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't press the matter. "All right then," he boomed, "That's it for practice today; everybody report on Wednesday here, after school, at four sharp!"

After having changed, Steven trooped tiredly out of the gym and out on to the sidewalk. Joe joined him, with more than a look of concern on his face. Steven held up his hand before Joe could even open his mouth. "I know, I know, you're going to ask if something's wrong, isn't it? Hell, Joe, _nothing is wrong._ I've had that question addressed to myself only too many times today."

Hurt flashed in Joe's eyes, but Steven was too tired to apologise. His friend turned and started to walk backward, so he could look Steven in the eye as they walked. "Look, Steven," Joe began, "I know something's not in place with you today, _but_—" He stopped Steven's protest by holding up his palms, "_but_ I'm not going to press you tell me your problem. I just wanted you to know, that if you wanted to tell anything, anything at all, I'm here, okay?"

Steven stopped and stared into Joe's friendly blue eyes. He smiled, for like what seemed the first time that day. "Thanks, _Dad_," he said, now grinning. Joe socked him in the arm in reply.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Steven cast a glance at the darkening sky as he stood before his home. His cotton T-Shirt and jeans were doing little to protect him from the cold gusts of wind, which chilled him to the marrow. The few other people on the sidewalks walked briskly to their destinations, some exclaiming in disbelief at the sudden change in weather.

Steven's mind immersed in thought. _Winds of change… I wonder…_

He pushed open the front door and was surprised to find Jessica and Elizabeth already home, lounging in the sitting room. Usually, it would take them over an hour to get home, considering how much they hung out with their friends- and boyfriends. They seemed equally surprised to see him.

"I thought basketball practice ended later?" Jessica said, looking up from the magazine she was thumbing through. Steven shrugged, depositing his backpack by the sofa. He plonked down on the couch and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"For once everybody's come home early," Elizabeth remarked. Steven opened an eye. "Mom and Dad are home?"

Elizabeth nodded. "In the kitchen," she said, gesturing with her thumb.

Steven got to his feet abruptly and started moving toward the kitchen, almost as if an external force were controlling him. He found Alice Wakefield busy slicing the vegetables for that night's dinner, while Ned was going through a thick file open in front of him on the kitchen table. Both of them looked up as their son came in.

"Steven, I see you're early."

Steven nodded absently. He sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his forehead again, as was his habit whenever he was troubled. _I wonder…_

"Say, Dad," he started, "Do you know anybody called Alisa McClaire?"

_Clang._ The kitchen knife dropped to the floor, followed by the pen Ned was holding. Steven found both his parents looking at him in shock, even horror. Ned was the first to pull himself together. "Pardon?" he managed.

"Alisa McClaire," Steven repeated, starting to sense something fishy, "Do you know anybody of that name?"

"Alisa…" Alice whispered, visibly trembling now. She exchanged a furtive glance with her husband, who nodded rather resignedly. "I do know someone of that name, Steven," he said quietly. Steven felt a tingling sensation of foreboding twinge his nerves. He leaned forward. "How do you know her?"

Instead of responding, Ned glanced at his wife again. She nodded and said, in shaky tones, "I think it is time, Ned… to tell him."

Steven looked from Ned to Alice. "Tell me what?"

Ned took a deep breath. "Steven," he began, "You know that I married your mother after I completed college. Well, before that I- I made- I mean-" Ned looked helplessly toward his wife, who decided to try a blunt approach.

"Steven, you're not actually _our_ child."

Steven's jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged to the size of dinner plates. "What!" he cried, predictably.

Alice laced her trembling fingers together and spoke again. "Your father had an- an _acquaintance_, by the name of Alisa McClaire, while they were in college. After a year of our marriage, Alisa visited us- with you in her hands. She claimed that you were born of her and Ned."

Steven remained suspended in silent shock. Alice continued. "She left you with us, saying there wasn't much time for her to live, and requested to bring you up with utmost love and reveal the truth at an appropriate time."

A few moments of silence ensued, before Steven shifted his gaze toward his father. "Is this true?" he whispered. _Am I really not born of Mom and Dad?_

Ned bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair in an agonised manner before nodding. "It took sometime for Alice to- to accept this."

"Dad! How _could_ you?" The voice was not Steven's, but Jessica's. She stormed into the kitchen, followed by Elizabeth, whose red face indicated that they'd been eavesdropping on the conversation. Jessica placed her hands on her hips and glared at her parents. "You should've said us this much earlier!"

Alice looked at her daughters sternly. "You two shouldn't have been eavesdropping."

"We deserve to know about this too!" Elizabeth said, her face now red not from embarrassment. While the twins burned, Steven silently got up from his place. He glided out of the kitchen noiselessly, slamming the door behind him. This caused everybody in the room to look toward the door, while absolute silence ensued.

The darkening sky was split by a clap of thunder, and the rain came pouring down.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A fog seemed to settle around Steven's mind as he trudged up the stairs. He was too shocked even to cry. His lovely safe home and life had come crashing down, revealing a new world steeped in shadows and mysteries; yet a world he was part of.

He entered his room and slammed the door behind him. He stood staring at the rain for sometime before he collapsed on his bed, more exhausted than he'd ever felt before. The poster of the latest Ferrari on his ceiling dissolved into various colours; swirling around him, enveloping the room.

He shuddered, suddenly, frighteningly aware that he was on the threshold of a new mysterious world.

A very dangerous world.

But then again, he might just be letting his imagination run wild. He decided he was never going to visit the video rental shop again.

A gentle knock sounded on the door. "Come in," Steven muttered tiredly.

The door opened and his father came in, looking almost apprehensive. Steven smiled weakly. "You don't have to worry, Dad. I'm not going to eat you or something."

Ned forced a smile and sat on the edge of Steven's bed. He cleared his throat. "I would just like to apologise, Steven, for not telling you this before. I know you're upset, and—"

Steven sat up, interrupting him. "Let me make this clear, Dad: I'm _not_ upset. At least not too much. You don't have to apologise."

"Thank you, son."

Silence prevailed before Ned asked, almost tentatively, "So, how did you hear of Alisa?"

Steven debated for a moment whether to tell his father the strange 'vision' he'd seen on the basketball court. His father was basically a very practical, no-nonsense tough lawyer and person, and would be more inclined to think what Steven was saying as ranting induced by shock, lack of sleep or even an indigested meal. He might be inclined to agree with Steven before him, because of pity, and think of it as madness within his mind. Steven hated being pitied.

He decided not to tell.

He shrugged. "Just heard it around somewhere," he said vaguely, before asking, "What was she like?"

Almost as if expecting the question, his father pulled out a photograph from his pocket. Willing his fingers not to tremble, Steven took the old framed photo and gazed at it. It was a group photo and he could spot his Dad immediately in it: smiling and laughing, looking about 18 or 19.

Ned looked over his shoulder at it and sighed in nostalgia. "That was taken in our college freshmen picnic," he said. "The girl next to me, that was Alisa."

Steven glanced back at the photo to notice a stunningly beautiful young woman next to his Dad. Long, shiny black hair framed a delicate oval face and sparkling green eyes shone like emeralds against her fair skin. Her mesmerising smile stood out like a jewel against the others. Steven brushed his fingers over her laughing face. _My mother…_ She looked vaguely familiar though Steven was sure he'd never met her…

Then he remembered: the 'vision' he'd had on the court; the strange woman who had arisen from the tomb; the ethereal voice that had spoken to him in his dreams… they had all been his mother. She was trying to tell him something, perhaps. Perhaps she just wanted him to know that he was her son.

But why?

Why _now_?

Steven suddenly realised that Ned was looking at him, waiting for him to say something. He looked back at the photo and after a few more moments of silence, he whispered, "She's beautiful…"

Ned nodded and smiled ruefully. "Yes. In fact, so beautiful that she was swamped with offers for acting in commercials, movies, the works. But she turned them all down. She maintained an extremely low profile beyond the campus always."

Then, abruptly, Ned reached into his jacket again and pulled out a beautiful red leather-bound book, about the size of Steven's hand, but thick. He handed it to Steven. "When Alisa left you with us, she wanted me to give you this when you… when you found out."

His breath caught in his chest, Steven took the book and opened it. The pages, rather disappointingly, were blank.

"Steven?"

He looked up at his father and managed a small smile. "Thanks," he said. His father nodded. "Dinner will be ready in half-an-hour or so. Are- are you sure you're not too upset?"

Steven shook his head. "Of course not."

Ned gave a small smile as well and went out of the room and closed the door gently behind him. Steven sat down at his desk and examined the book closely. He ran his fingers over the smooth, unmarked leather, and finally opened the book. But instead of being confronted with blank pages this time though, the book started vibrating so hard that Steven had to drop it back on the desk in surprise.

In front of Steven's wide eyes, a bright light seemed to emanate from the page, spinning into a small whirlwind of light with a vortex so bright that Steven had to shield his eyes from the glare. When the light had gone, Steven slowly removed his hand from his eyes. _What's happening here?_

He caught a look of what was standing in front of his desk, and screamed.


	3. Deeper

_**Chapter 3**_

Elizabeth Wakefield went about her task of setting the table for dinner along with Jessica. Normally, Steven was meant to do it that evening, but after what had happened…

A blood-curdling male scream sounded from upstairs, and Elizabeth dropped the forks she was holding, the clanging sound they made on the floor causing the hairs on the back of her neck rise up a further few centimetres.

Alice and Ned came rushing out of the kitchen and shouted up the stairs, "Steven?"

Steven appeared at the head of the stairs, a little pale but smiling sheepishly. "It's nothing," he said. "Nothing at all. In fact, it was just a spider that happened to fall on my head."

Jessica frowned in confusion. Steven was _never_ afraid of insects, least of all spiders. In fact, when they were much younger, he used capture spiders in shoeboxes and threaten to release them on the twins if they didn't listen to him. Once, he _did_ carry out his threat, and Jessica had never forgiven him for it.

But now, everybody was just relieved that it was nothing serious. Steven went back into his room, and Jessica and Elizabeth returned to setting the table. After a couple of moments of silence, Jessica glanced across at her sister.

"Don't you think that was strange?"

Elizabeth paused in the process of setting out the plates. "That spider thing?"

"Yeah."

Elizabeth bit her lip thoughtfully. "Maybe, but I think we should just leave the guy alone."

Jessica nodded, but inside she was extremely doubtful.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Still trembling from head to foot, and with no idea why he had lied to his family just then, Steven turned back into his room. The strange creature that had emanated from the book stood staring at him in rigid attention. Now that he'd gotten over his shock and got a good look at the… _thing_, it was almost funny.

Steven found himself staring at a small creature, perhaps four feet in height, with rough greenish-brown skin, pockmarked by occasional small lumps. It wore a white cloak around its thin frame and two wide brown eyes stared at him from a small wizened face. A tiny nose stuck out above a wide, whisker framed mouth and its ears, almost as long as a rabbit's, twitched constantly. After a few long moments of silence, Steven cleared his throat.

"Um, hello?"

The creature tilted its head slightly, opening its mouth to speak, revealing yellow, jagged teeth in the process. "You have the blood of the saviour running in your veins," it said, in a surprisingly deep, soothing voice, with an undertone of awe. Steven shifted uneasily, not sure of what to say.

"Yeah, thanks, I guess. But--"

He was interrupted by a bow from the creature. "I am Kalilay Simhon Mariotto, from the species of _firsks._ I was your mother's companion and advisor, as generations of my family have been to yours, of the Magic Clan." The creature looked up at him with a sudden, scrutinising glance. "But you can call me Kal, as Lady Alisa preferred."

Steven was feeling increasingly more uncomfortable and confused. His head was bursting with a million questions, but somehow, his lips seemed to have turned to lead.

"I see you have a lot to inquire of me," Kal prompted helpfully.

"Yeah, you bet I do," Steven blurted. "What _is_ the Magic Clan?"

The 'firsk' laced its long, knobbly fingers together and rested his pointed chin on them, his eyes still fixated on Steven. "The Magic Clan is- or rather _was-_ a select race of people who could, in crude terms, practice magic. This sort of a magic is not your usual waving a wooden stick and muttering mumbo-jumbo, but the complete unification of one's soul to the powers of nature's elements. The power produced by such a process is nothing short of incredible."

Steven listened in open-jawed amazement. "What did this Clan do?"

Kal's eyes now closed, deeply involved in his narrative. "I am sure you are aware of the biological and physical structure of man, maybe even of the intricate complexities of the human mind. However, the Clan discovered that the human _soul_ was made up of conflicting powers of nature- both destructive and constructive. Many of the Clan set out on a journey of self-exploration to achieve the perfect balance. However, not all of them achieved it. In fact, some of their journeys went so '_off the track_', as Lady Alisa would call it, that the destructive side of their nature overwhelmed their souls. They cried for the complete annihilation of the Magic Clan, and very nearly achieved it, too. Lady Alisa was the only one to escape- she became the professed saviour of the clan."

Steven frowned. "The annihilation of an entire race? But certainly the world must have heard of it, right?"

Kal shook his head. "You do not understand. The Magic Clan and their defectors- they were normal people on the outside. They pursued the same life that the other billions of humans on this planet do. It was all very secret."

The firsk gave a raspy sigh and continued. "These defectors, who called themselves the Raydevils, a rather crude name _I_ think, were widespread, across the globe. Once the destruction of the Magic Clan was confirmed, the magic within them went into dormancy. They thought Alisa was dead, though of course, she wasn't.

Wouldn't _anyone_ be appalled at the complete wiping out of such a sophisticated race, beholders of a rare truth? Lady Alisa was the only hope for the revival of the clan, but unfortunately, she became a victim of severe pneumonia soon after you were born. She thought that, naturally, giving you to your father was the best way to keep you safe. I had to stay dormant in this book, until you found out."

"So that's what '_awaits the heir_' meant…" Steven muttered to himself, awed.

Kal continued speaking. "Steven, you are the lone survivor of the Magic Clan, and therefore its new saviour."

Steven stared at him incredulously. "_Excuse_ me? This thing is way too weird to believe, and even _if_ I believed it, how am I supposed to do anything to save an entire race? I'm just your average high school kid."

Kal sighed. "You have no perception of how wrong you are." The firsk looked at him sharply, sudden intensity burning in its eyes. "The Raydevils sense you, Steven. They're _awakening_. Their sole purpose is to _kill you_. So, whether you believe it or not, you have to vanquish the Raydevils to _survive_."

Steven raised an eyebrow sceptically, unimpressed. "And how am I supposed to 'vanquish' them?"

Kal looked at him as if Steven were joking. "With your magic, of course."

Steven felt like tearing his hair out. "How am I supposed to get this through to you: _I have no magic power!_"

Kal stared back at him calmly, not intimidated by Steven's yelling. "You have the potential within you; we just have to tap it."

Steven grew very, very still.

"What do you mean, _we_?"

"I thought it'd be obvious. I will train you through the basics, of course, though I don't have any real training in the art of the Magic Clan."

Steven felt his head spinning. "T-training?"

Kal sat down cross-legged on Steven's bed. "I know, the Magic is more a practice of _self-exploration_, but since you have absolutely no awareness of the Magic, I have to guide you through the beginning stages."

The firsk gave him a sudden, crooked grin. "In fact, we could start right now."

Steven held up his palms. "Wait; give me some time, will ya? This is too much to digest for one evening; besides--"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Steven?" Jessica's voice, a little muffled, sounded.

"Just a second!" Steven said aloud and glanced with urgency at Kal. "Go back into the book, or something!" he whispered fiercely.

Kal gave him a look of some bewilderment, but thankfully, didn't say anything. The small whirlwind of light surrounded the firsk once again, and he disappeared into the open book.

Hoping he didn't look too flustered, Steven opened the door. Jessica stood outside, looking slightly confused. "Mom's calling you for dinner," she said, peering on tiptoes over his shoulder into his room curiously.

Steven looked at her with as much irritation as he could muster. "What are you looking at?"

Jessica gave him a probing glance. "Were you talking to somebody in there?"

Sweat broke out on Steven's forehead, but he maintained his irritated, older-brother expression. "I was talking on the phone," he said shortly. He closed the door behind him and strode toward the stairs. Jessica stood staring at the door for a long moment, then shrugged, and followed him down the stairs.


	4. First take and mistake

_**Chapter 4**_

Dinner went by in a haze of uncomfortable silence and gently clinking cutlery, before Steven swallowed the last of his dessert and excused himself. He started up the stairs, perspiration once again breaking over his forehead as he felt Jessica's eyes bore into his back. Jessica, though a very nice person overall, was just a trifle _too_ impulsive and curious for her own good. He just hoped her curiosity wasn't enough to propel her into investigating the strange voices in his bedroom.

As he approached his room, he didn't open the door immediately; instead, he leaned against the cool wall next to the door and closed his eyes, trying to get his thoughts straight. Just until this afternoon, he'd been what one could call a typical, normal high school kid, with absolutely no worries ranging beyond school assignments, basketball championships and fights with his girlfriend. Now, though… now, he had found out he had a different mother, who had been the professed saviour of a nearly-annihilated magic-practising race of people, only to die of pneumonia, leaving him to be the only hope and survivor of the race, with enemies who could be anyone around him and an enigmatic 'advisor' of a species of creatures Steven had never fathomed of in his wildest dreams, leave alone heard of. _Whew!_

With a sigh, he opened the door and went into the room. He glanced at the open book.

"Okay, Kal," he said dully, "You can come out now."

The light appeared once again, and Kal was soon standing in front of Steven, in an expectant stance. Steven sat down on his bed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. Now that the excitement of finding Kal and his true origins had faded, increasing confusion had begun to sink in. _What the hell am I supposed to do?_

"I see you are slightly bewildered after tonight's events," Kal said. When Steven didn't answer, Kal continued, "It _is_ understandable, considering the rapidity at which you have been receiving startling information."

Steven lifted his head and stared at Kal, chin resting on laced fingers. "What _are_ you?"

Kal tilted his head. "You imply by that question…?"

"I mean, I've never seen anything like you on Earth before. I don't think anyone, except the Magic Clan have even _heard_ of firsks. _And_ you can speak English perfectly."

Yellow teeth flashed as Kal shot Steven a rueful grin. "I am the only surviving member of firsks, now, I'm afraid. About how we firsks came into being, that's a story for later."

A cold gust of wind entered the room. Steven got up and closed the window. "Okay, Kal," Steven said, "What am I supposed to do now? I mean, how _do_ I defeat the Raydevils, whoever they are?"

Kal grinned again. "First things first, Steven. We'll start by bringing out your powers before starting to worry about _that_."

Steven turned slowly, glacially, almost apprehensively.

"You want to start now, yes?" Kal guessed.

Steven didn't say anything. He just sat down on his bed and looked at Kal expectantly.

"All right then," Kal said, settling himself on the floor, "It's pretty simple, really, for a person with the Potential. Close your eyes and meditate."

_Predictable_, Steven thought sourly, but followed Kal's instructions. After a few minutes, Steven gave out a sigh and opened one eye. "This isn't going anywhere."

"Of course it wouldn't go anywhere," Kal replied. Steven opened both eyes.

"What?"

Kal stared back at him, an unfathomable expression in his eyes. "You aren't _concentrating_. You are so focused on physical changes, that you aren't aware of the _mental_ processes." The firsk blinked his eyes, slowly, and then continued, "Try again; this time, forget the outside world, forget that anything is going to happen; just reach within yourself."

Steven raised an eyebrow, but did as Kal said once again. He steadied his breathing to a soft, rhythmic inhalation and exhalation. Everything went so quiet he could hear his own heart beat. In fact, so quiet that he could _hear_ the trees growing outside; the gentle splash of each raindrop on the green blades of grass, the ruffle of feathers as a bird settled down to sleep through a rainy night, the faint scratching of carbon against paper as Elizabeth worked in the opposite room, the chatter of millions of insects, the raspy breathing of Kal…

As he revelled in the plethora of sounds he could now perceive, he felt increasing warmth in his hands, which were folded on his lap. It increased to the point where he felt his hands were on fire. With a small yelp, he opened his eyes. What he saw caused his jaw to drop down what seemed like a couple of metres.

Blue flame surrounded his hands.

Kal stared at him in awe, brown eyes wide, and golden pupils dilated. "You have found it so quickly… you _are_ indeed the son of Lady Alisa."

Steven shuddered; the flame flickered and died. "Wha- what was that?" he gasped, breathing heavily.

"That is the magic you can generate from your union with the elements."

Steven stared at his hands. "But what does it _do_?"

"More than you can imagine." Kal gazed at him earnestly. "You see, with a lot more refinement, you can actually _control_ the elements. Now that you have discovered your first taste, there's no stopping you, son of the great family of McClaire, to complete your journey- except the Raydevils."

Kal's expression grew more serious. "You must be careful, Steven. Anybody around you could be a Raydevil, or a descendant of a Raydevils, whose powers have gone into dormancy. Now that your magic has been awakened, you have to be very careful. I will be there to help you, of course; but there's only so much I can do."

Steven's gaze shifted between his hands and Kal in astonished succession; his brain struggled to keep up with it all. A scabby hand touched his. It was Kal.

"Do not worry. I have no doubt that the Clan would triumph, yet again."

_Yet again? _Steven got to his feet; it was then that he realised how exhausted he was: his knees seemed rubbery and his head felt like three tons of bricks had been dropped on it. The bed beckoned invitingly- there would be no time to do homework; besides, he was sure in no mood to do anything other than _sleep_. He deserved that, didn't he, after what he'd been put through that day?

Without bothering to change, Steven fell back on to the covers, eyes closed even before his head hit the pillow. Kal smiled at him affectionately and pulled the covers over Steven's body.

"Indeed Lady Alisa's son."

With that, the firsk once more retired into the book.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Not tonight, Tanya; tomorrow's the test, you _know_ that."

Steven leaned against the locker, gazing plaintively at his girlfriend. School had just ended, and though he wasn't eager to study or even go home at all, he was even less inclined to go on a date that night.

Tanya looked puzzled. "Test? There's no test tomorrow."

Steven bit back a groan. "Um, I've got to- take- er- a retest, yeah, a retest in -er- Chemistry."

Tanya smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "You can't lie to me, Steven Wakefield. You and retests just don't… _connect_."

Steven didn't know whether to be flattered or exasperated. He settled for rolling his eyes and turning to open his locker.

Tanya's smirk melted into a frown. "Well, I'm not going to stand here _begging_ you, or anything. I've got much better things to do too, you know."

_Uh oh._ Steven turned back. "Tanya, beautiful, I—"

"Don't _beautiful_ me," Tanya snapped. "Nowadays you hardly seem to have time for me; it's always either basketball, or studying, or-"

Steven couldn't take it anymore. "Shut up," he said. When met with an incredulous stare, he repeated, "Shut up; you're _way_ too nagging, you know that?"

Fire flared in Tanya's vivid green eyes. "Nagging, am I? Well, Steven, I'm sure you'll be glad to know that it's now _over_ between us." With that, she turned around and strode down the corridor, soon out of sight.

"Tanya," Steven started weakly, but was just too tired to try to make up with her. He made a mental note to take her out soon and try to sort things out. Normally, Steven and Tanya wouldn't have that many fights; even if they did, it wouldn't last for long. For Tanya to actually break up with him was unnatural, and already Steven could feel the aching loss of her companionship.

_Unnatural_. Funny, that in just a day that word had taken on a whole lot of a new meaning for him.

As Steven turned back to his locker, he once again, for possibly the millionth time that day, thought about the happenings of the previous evening. Even now, he could _feel_ his new-found magic tingling his nerves, the excitement and sheer _power_ coursing his veins; a part of him almost felt eager to resume his 'training'.

Almost.

Slowly he closed his locker and slung his backpack over one shoulder. Another part of him, the more sensitive part, was still trying to make _sense _of it all; the discovery of a lie that he'd been living throughout his life weighed down on his chest like a ton of bricks.

He stepped out of the school; the salty breeze greeted him, ruffling his hair. The sun shone down as brightly as usual, despite it being early evening and the chatter of the students leaving for home filled his ears.

"Steven!" He turned to see Joe approaching him, a rather amused smile on his face.

"I see you have finally proved yourself and Tanya to be human!" Joe declared heartily. Steven frowned quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Joe grinned. "I heard the whole thing, man. It's about time you and Tanya had a fight."

Steven smiled and shook his head. Joe had always been envious that he and Tanya hardly fought, while Joe and _his_ girlfriend, Isabella McArthur, fought and patched up practically every other day.

"Speaking of girlfriends," Joe said, glancing at his watch, "I promised I'd meet Isabella after school; I'm already late." He smiled and clapped Steven on the back. "I'll be seeing you around."

Once Joe had gone out of sight, Steven walked on. But his legs didn't take him home. He turned instead toward the beach, where he would usually go, whenever something was troubling him, or when he really needed to _think_.

Like now.

Once he had neared the shore of the nearly empty beach, he dropped his backpack onto the sand, kicked off his shoes, and sat down, allowing the salty water to lap at his bare feet. Once again, he let his mind relax, wander, reach the wonderful exalted state he had experienced the previous evening.

As he revelled in the sounds of the teems of life that the vast ocean held, he experienced something else: the enormous power, the _potential_ of power locked up within the ocean. He also remembered something Kal had told him:

"_With a lot more refinement, you can actually **control** the elements_"…

_Control_, Steven mused. _Sounds interesting_. He opened his eyes and got to his feet, shaking the sand off his jeans legs. The sound of the ocean resonant in his mind, he held out his arm, palm facing the vast expanse of water. The blue flame surrounded his hand once again. Willing himself not to freak out again, he concentrated harder, and the intensity of the blue flame maintained a direct relationship with the level of his concentration.

Eyes closed, Steven heard the sound of the waves getting louder and louder, and the salty spray seemed to be hitting him harder than usual…

He opened his eyes, and gasped.

An enormous wave, controlled by the power concentrated in his hand, towered menacingly above the horizon.


	5. Beginning spirals of the conspiracy

_**Chapter 5**_

The breeze caused goosebumps to spring up on his soaked skin and powerful shivers to travel up and down his spine. He stared at the brown mahogany door in front of him, before his trembling hand reached up to grasp the handle. Before it could do so, however, the door opened, and Ned Wakefield stood in front of him, car keys in hand, obviously about to leave the house.

"Steven!" Ned exclaimed. "Where have you been all this time? And why are you wet?"

Steven stepped into the house, dropping his sodden backpack by the door. "Long story," he murmured.

He made way for the stairs, before his father's angry voice stopped him. "Wait and answer me, young man."

Steven turned around to look into his father's furious face. "It's nothing, Dad," he insisted tiredly.

"I was about to go looking for you. It's _eight_, Steven. You should have been here _three _hours ago, _dry_."

Steven frowned and opened his mouth to retort, when an almighty sneeze interrupted him. His mother, who had been silently standing by all the time, stepped forward in concern. "We'll discuss about this later," she said firmly. "Meanwhile, Steven, you'd better go change into dry clothes, before you catch something serious."

Silently thanking his mother, and more the timely sneeze, he nodded and went up the stairs, avoiding his father's stern gaze. Once outside his room, he pushed open the door and went in, drops of water, which were dripping from his person, tracing the path he walked.

After having changed into something dry, he flopped down on the bed, mind too numb with exhaustion to even feel any clear emotion, other than an uncomfortable, choking rise of confusion, awe and foreboding.

As he ran a hand through his still wet hair, he remembered the wave that he had caused; the panic that had flooded his chest at the thought that he might have created an accidental tsunami that might just swallow Sweet Valley. He had just barely managed to avoid a disaster, though getting completely soaked in the process. He could now really appreciate Kal's comments about 'a lot more refinement' and taking things step by step. He had had barely enough power to prevent the water from flooding the town; it would take a lot more power and _practice_ to use the water's power to his advantage. A chill went down his spine, and it wasn't because of the cold.

His over-enthusiasm and impulsiveness had nearly put ten thousand people in grave danger.

Steven sighed and turned around on the bed to lie on his stomach. He had lost much of his appetite, and besides, he felt he just couldn't face his parents then. What could he say to them? What would pass through his words that might give even a hint to how his life had changed?

Steven rubbed his face, trying to get his bearings. _Maybe I'm being too hyper about this._

The familiar sound of the whirlwind of light, which heralded Kal's appearance from the book, interrupted Steven's musings. The firsk soon stood staring at him in polite, but questioning silence.

"You do not look too well," Kal said finally, after a long silence.

Steven, now on his back, staring at the ceiling, spoke. "I tried out my… _powers_ today."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah." Steven told his 'advisor' of his experience on the beach.

To his surprise, the firsk laughed. Little raspy giggles escaped the firsk's mouth before Kal was able to control himself. "Forgive me," he said, "but the resemblance to Lady Alisa was rather overwhelming." He leaned forward, the amusement replaced by earnestness. "I will you give you the same advice I gave to her when she was faced with similar circumstances: Never regret your experiments. Instead, _learn_ from them. You may have failed to get satisfactory control over the ocean wave you generated, but a whole new _scope_ has been added to your powers, which will, of course, accelerate your progress."

Kal winked. "Provided you don't start _ground_ control next. You might start an earthquake."

When met with a stare, Kal put up his scabby four-fingered palms. "I was, what you would call, _kidding_, yes? I see this has affected you more than I thought." He rocked himself back and forth on his knobbly legs. "Never deny your destiny, Steven, or the path that leads to it. Instead, make the most of it. You have the Potential to triumph within you; let not confusion or fear drown your soul. You are the son of the McClaires and the Wakefields; courage and success runs in your blood- you can overcome petty fear, I'm sure of it."

Silence prevailed for a while as Steven pondered these words.

_Okay, this is it,_ he thought, with a sudden beam of clarity that penetrated the fog of confusion in which his mind was suspended. _This is what I have to do, and I'll **do** it._

"Well, Kal," he said, gazing at the firsk, "You're the one who's supposed to be my guide, right? So go ahead and guide. Tell me what I have to do next."

Kal gave him an affectionate smile. "Of course," he said. "I was only waiting for you to ask."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The overcast sky rumbled and roiled, promising a heavy shower in the very near future. The wind, as chilly as it could ever get, terrorised those who hadn't had enough foresight to don warm clothes, which, practically was everybody.

Except one.

This man walked on, hands in the pockets of his voluptuous trench coat, unmindful of the weather. Many disjointed thoughts floated in his head, but he wasn't aware anything other than reaching his destination.

Soon, he turned into one of those dark, pungent, unspoken-of alleyways that were an inevitable by-product of rapid industrialisation. In relative safety from the imminent rain, thanks to half-corroded roofs of the grimy windows above, he threw back the hood of the trench coat. Blinking, almost as if just realising where he was, he cast a belligerent gaze round the alley. Finally, he managed to get his bearings. Opening his mouth, he started to speak, possibly to himself.

"The Raydevils have been awoken. May I be so bold as to ask what warrants this awakening?"

The handsome young man waited with barely hidden nervousness, for, seemingly, a reply. Sweat dripped down his strong, aristocratic forehead and nose to splash on his muscled chest, covered by a thin cotton T-Shirt. Hardly a nanosecond after the drop had fallen, a deep voice sounded from within the dark bowels of the alley.

"The saviour exists."

The simple reply caused palpable surprise and even _fear_ to bloom on the young man's face. "The saviour?" he sputtered. "But—McClaire… she's _dead_!"

"She had borne an heir, seventeen years ago. And now, he has realised his powers."

The man grew very, very still. "And my purpose, Lord?"

"You know it very well, my loyal Raydevil." The very darkness itself seemed to smile, as the voice continued.

"Kill Steven Wakefield."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The cool air of the air conditioner greeted Jessica Wakefield as she walked into one of the swankiest boutiques in the Sweet Valley Mall. Lila Fowler, her rich best friend, walked a few strides ahead of her, her manner confident. Lila had come here so often that it almost felt like a second home. To Jessica, though, the place was a treat to the window-shopper, but the price tags could instill disbelief in _anybody's_ heart.

Except Lila Fowler, of course.

Daughter of the owner of the sprawling and highly successful Fowler Enterprises, she was extremely rich. _Too_ rich, in fact. Most of the time she did behave like a spoiled rich kid, but Lila could display sudden flashes of empathy that others would have thought impossible of her. But then, even those occasions were just that: occasional.

Jessica had first been drawn to her, way back in elementary school, because of her incredible money-spending habits, her great fashion sense and the great parties that she threw. Then later, despite occasional flashes of jealousy, Jessica had become one of the only true friends Lila had. Jessica knew her friend very well, and with concurring interests in many matters, especially fashion and boys, she and Lila had a great time together. Even their extreme sense of competitiveness did not hinder their friendship. Not too much, at least.

"Josh Andrews asked me out yesterday," Lila told her, browsing through a collection of ridiculously priced miniskirts. She pulled out a slinky black one, and eyed it with scrutiny. "I accepted." She smiled happily, closing her eyes for a moment, envisioning their date. "It's tomorrow, so I'd better buy something good for it."

Jessica felt another twang of jealousy. Josh was one of the most popular and sought-after guys in school. She tried to push down those feelings, and be happy for her friend. "I think that's great, Lila," she said, with forced enthusiasm. "I'm sure it'll be wonderful." Before she could ask where they were going, she spotted Bruce Patman coming their way and nearly groaned out loud.

Bruce Patman was a tenth grader, and also belonged to one of the richest families in Sweet Valley, just as rich as the Fowlers. Bruce and Lila were always at loggerheads with each other, and often, with his obnoxious and self-confident manners, or to simply put it, _arrogance_, really got on everybody's nerves. She just hoped he was not coming to start a fight or anything.

By now, Lila had noticed his advancing toward them, and narrowed her eyes. But Bruce looked far from being eager to pick a fight. In fact, with his handsome face pale and his circles underneath his eyes, he looked as if he hadn't slept at all the previous night.

_I bet he's still pissed that Steven's performance completely humiliated his own on court, _Jessica thought smugly. Though Bruce had been a star player in the Sweet Valley Middle School basketball team, he had to struggle to hold his position on the SVH team. It was well known that he and Steven weren't exactly on amiable terms with each other, the main, and only, reason being that Steven's basketball prowess completely outclassed Bruce's.

"Lila," he said, "What are you doing here?"

_Talk about dumb questions. _Jessica rolled her eyes.

"I'm _shopping_," Lila snapped. "I hope that, by any chance, isn't bothering _you_?"

"Yeah, whatever," Bruce said distractedly. He cast a vague glance around the shop, as if not sure of what to say, or _how_ to say whatever he'd wanted to say.

He cleared his throat. "Uh, Lila, I--" He fiddled with his gold watchstrap uncomfortably.

Jessica realised he hadn't seen her yet, and expecting an exciting scene, quickly ducked behind an array of designer shirts, spying on the two. "Out with it," Lila said irritably.

"Lila," he said finally, "You free tomorrow night? I mean… um, shall we go out someplace?"

Jessica nearly choked on her surprise. Bruce Patman was asking Lila Fowler out on a date! Well, well… it would be interesting to see Lila's reaction to this.

Lila was, predictably, dumbfounded for a few moments. Whatever she had been expecting Bruce to say, it _definitely_ hadn't been this. But you couldn't expect a Fowler to remain dumbfounded for long. She quickly regained her bearings and fixed him with her best disdainful stare. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I'm afraid I have to decline. You see, I'm already going on a date with Josh Andrews tomorrow night."

Bruce's eyes flashed, not accustomed to such derisive denials. "You're going with _that_ wimp!"

Lila's voice grew icy. "That's more than what can be said about _you_, Bruce."

Bruce folded his arms, the flame practically burning in his eyes now. "Fine," he said. "Thank you for rescuing me from a fit of suicidal madness." He shook his head. "I can't believe I even asked you, of all people."

Lila's eyebrows arched. "Oh? So you consider yourself so handsome that girls will just fall at your feet the moment you ask them?" She snorted. "Get a life, man."

Jessica was completely enjoying herself. Truly, Bruce's and Lila's spats were a unique form of entertainment.

"You know what? I do," Bruce snapped.

Lila smirked. "Well, Mr. Attractive, let's see if you can at least score more than a few baskets in the championship finals against St. Joe High."

Jessica, unable to resist, came out of her 'hiding' place. "He can't, as long as Steven's there."

Bruce stiffened as he eyed her. "Wakefield," he growled. "Eavesdropping, were you?"

"Don't change the subject," Jessica said nonchalantly. "The fact is you can hardly hope to become the star of the game, because Steven's there to take the title." Jessica often considered her brother a total pain in the neck, but at times like this, she was truly proud to say that Steven Wakefield was _her_ elder brother.

_Or step-brother, _echoed from some distant corner of her brain.

Jessica pushed those unpleasant memories away as Bruce spoke. "Don't get too complacent about him. He's nothing but a flash in the pan. Why, he completely freaked out in practice a couple of days back."

Jessica's eyes hardened. "Let your performance speak for yourself, Bruce."

Lila, having then selected what she wanted to buy, it inevitably being one of the most expensive selections in the boutique, strode briskly toward the counter, where the saleswoman's eyes lit up on seeing her. "Come on, Jessica," she said. "The championship finals are in a couple of weeks, right? We'll get a chance to humiliate Bruce _then_."

Jessica grinned and followed Lila. The two girls turned to see Bruce standing rigid, fists clenched in anger. They immediately exploded into giggles, which only served to increase Bruce's anger. "Two weeks from now," he said quietly, an under-tremor of anger evident in his voice, "Steven's finished."

Lila laughed, but Jessica couldn't bring herself to do the same. There was something infinitely strange in Bruce's voice…

"Hey, Jess," Lila said. "Let's go, shall we?"

Jessica came back to herself with a start. "What? You bought it already?"

Lila rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Of course, I did. If I hadn't called you just now, you'd have probably stood day-dreaming here all day."

Jessica chose not to reply to that, and the two went out. "So Bruce's gone," Jessica stated more than asked.

Lila nodded, but was silent. Jessica cast a sharp sideways glance at her. Lila's eyes were dreamy, almost glassy. Jessica wondered if anything was wrong, and was about to ask as much, but suddenly a thought, not likely, but definitely not impossible, struck her. She grinned and continued walking in silence with her friend.

_Oh, Lila. If only you knew that I **know**._


	6. Of practice, materialism and prying sist...

**_A/N:_** A big thanks to those who've reviewed! After 4 chapters and no reviews, I had begun to wonder if the character wasn't that popular, or my writing put people off. But your reviews were consoling… I hope you continue to enjoy!

_**Chapter 6**_

_Thud._

Elizabeth Wakefield turned around sharply at the unexpected sound, stifling a reflexive gasp. She had just gotten home from school, a few minutes earlier than Jessica. She hadn't expected anybody to be at home as of yet, and the sound and the distinctive groan (?) she had heard just then was enough to give her vague misgivings.

She opened the door and entered the den, where she suspected the sound had come from. To her surprise, it was her brother, lying face down on the floor, which, even more surprisingly, bore a large jagged crack extending from one end of the room toward the other. Maybe Steven had taken a fall or something, but surely he wasn't as heavy as to crack the floor?

At that moment, as Elizabeth stood in bafflement at the entrance to the den, Steven stirred and got to his feet, muttering rather unintelligibly. He stood for some time unsteadily, blinking his eyes, forcing them to focus. When he was apparently satisfied, he looked up toward the door- at Elizabeth, and nearly fell over again.

"El- Elizabeth!" he sputtered. "What're you doing here?"

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "I _do_ live here, last time I checked."

Steven grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, it was a stupid question to ask." He edged past her, towards the door, but Elizabeth caught his arm. "Yeah, it _was_ a stupid question." She smiled at him. "A better question, you see, and one that _I_ am about to ask _you_, is, what in the world are you doing here so early, and _why_ did you see fit to crack the floor?"

Steven's eyes widened, as if he were noticing the floor for the first time. "I am allowed to come a bit early, aren't I? And besides, I don't know anything about that crack."

Once again her eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Then why were you lying face down _on _it?"

Steven frowned, annoyed. "Don't _bug _me, all right?"

Elizabeth had a sharp retort poised on her lips, but her words died out. Somehow, memories of the evening of two days ago, when Steven got to know the truth, still were painfully fresh in her mind. She released his arm. "I'm sorry, Steven," she said, looking away. "I guess I shouldn't pry."

There were a couple of moments of silence before Steven smiled warmly at her, dispelling the light tension. "Hey, Liz, that's what makes you such a great journalist." He was referring to her working on the SVH student newspaper- _The Oracle_, as a columnist. Her writing and journalistic talents were well known and appreciated. "I probably shouldn't have snapped, either."

His sister opened her mouth once again, most probably to ask something else, when he quickly edged past her, the smile now somewhat strained. "Hey, but you know what? I've got some, um, homework unfinished up there, and I, uh, really got to go and finish it…" With that, he took off in a sprint toward his room, leaving Elizabeth in a surprised daze.

She quickly recovered though, and walked slowly toward the crack on the wooden floor. It wasn't too wide, but definitely long. She found herself shuddering at what her mother, an interior designer, would say when she saw this. She would probably have a fit.

Elizabeth ran her fingers along it, her lips twisting into a thoughtful, yet determined scowl. The sight of her brother lying sprawled on this crack, groaning, was etched into her brain, refusing to be ignored. There was something fishy over here, and all her instincts screamed at her to check it out. She brought her fingers up and her eyes widened at the sight of glimmering, very-nearly invisible blue powder covering her fair digits. Her eyes wandered up the stairs again, to rest on the door to Steven's room, which was the first on the landing.

_Hmm…_There was something fishy going on, something that involved her brother, something that was happening _under her very nose_.

Elizabeth's lips set themselves in a full-out frown. She was not sure what was happening, why it was happening, how, or when. But she was sure of one thing:

She wasn't going rest until she found out.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Seven days.

It had been _seven days_ since he had discovered his 'power' and it was still causing him pure hell. He'd tried practising as much as he could, trying to control water, wind, had even tried ground control. Unfortunately, he had erred in his choice of place: the living room. He could still remember Elizabeth's suspicious gaze boring into him, and, if he knew her well, she would've probably started her 'investigating' by now.

Pure hell, alright.

"If you want to think clearly, I would suggest stopping the angry pacing," a familiar deep voice sounded, preceded by an equally-familiar whirring. "Anger clouds judgement, leading to erroneous use of power… something that has created many Raydevils."

Steven snapped his gaze to Kal, who was staring at him, following his every movement, his murky brown eyes wide and serious. "You want me to calm down?" Steven growled. "Like hell I'll calm down! It's been just seven days, _just seven days_, and already I've managed to wreck my family's living room, and have both my sisters after my back! _And,_ in _seven_ days, I've _not_ managed to control my power properly at all… hell, I haven't achieved anything other than getting my family suspicious, alienating my friends, and breaking up with my girlfriend! And you want me to _calm down_!"

Kal was absolutely unruffled by this outburst. "Raising your voice is also another unrequired, and possibly dangerous, action. Also, your constant use of 'seven days' when a 'week' would suffice suggests that you are tired, and possibly afraid, of this responsibility that has been thrust onto you. Am I right?"

Not a word escaped the seventeen-year-old's lips, and nor did his scowl.

Kal sighed. "I thought we had already discussed this, and had reached an amiable conclusion. Why is it that you're afraid now?"

Steven blew out through pursed lips, diffusing his anger, leaving it to be replaced by confused despair. "I'm not afraid," he said quietly. "I guess I am… _frustrated_. However much I try, practice, things just don't work out the way I want them to… Maybe I'm not meant for this sort of thing at all…"

Kal sighed yet again, and Steven felt his anger growing once more. "You're going to say, 'I expected better from you,' right? Or maybe 'You don't deserve such high responsibility'?"

Kal looked up at him, his eyes graver than ever. "You're wrong Steven; I had not intended to say those things at all. In fact, I had expected no more than this." He put up his scabby hands before Steven could get in a word. "Now, before your raw mood induces you to take my words in a meaning other than my original intention, let me explain: I perfectly understand what you're feeling, and I would like to say that, for the progress you've made so far, I'm extremely proud of you."

One eyebrow arched sceptically on his young master's face. "Progress?"

The firsk nodded. "Yes. You've progressed far better than any other members of the Clan that I knew in your situation." Kal's nose twitched. "Your frustration is nothing but a product of your impatience, which is in turn a product of the overly-materialistic life that you lead. Attunement to nature is not like a… what do you call it? ...ah, video game, which you can master within a few hours. For many it has taken even years to achieve even basic natural attunement. For you, it will be faster, of course, thanks to the boundless talent that runs through your veins, but not as fast as you think, or want."

Steven started pacing again. "Materialism," he said, still sceptical. "So you're saying, Kal, that my materialistic way of life is the problem? What do you want me to do, give up all my worldly possessions and go meditate in some forest?"

Kal chuckled. "An alluring idea, but not plausible in your current situation." Once again the seriousness settled like a mask on his wrinkled face. "Perhaps I was a little too strong in my choice of words. Perhaps I could advise you that a little _more_ concentration and a little _less _distraction would do you wonders."

The firsk suddenly smiled, and settled more comfortably on Steven's bed. He gestured toward the jug of water that Steven had on his desk, placed there so that he need not go downstairs whenever he felt thirsty during the night.

At least, that's what he'd told his parents, when he'd started the habit, a week ago. Its real use was entirely different.

"Let's try again," the firsk said, folding his legs beneath him, and closing his eyes. "Try moving the water toward me, and back into the jug again." There was some silence as Steven glared defiantly at Kal. Finally, he realised the futility of the expression on the patient firsk, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

He pictured the water in the jug in his mind: the transparent, still surface; the distorted view of the bottom and the sides of the jug from within the water; the even texture. Then he went even deeper, visualising the water on a molecular level, _feeling_ the bonded hydrogen and oxygen atoms, the boundless energy stored within the seemingly infinitesimal nucleus.

He lifted one hand slowly, focusing that energy, reining it in his mind. The blue light enveloped his outstretched hand, and the lid of the jug vibrated violently. Both firsk and teenager ignored it, the latter concentrating even harder. Finally, the lid, with one last loud shake, tumbled to the floor. The water rose out, in little transparent globules, like they would appear in zero-gravity. These globules moved obediently with every movement of Steven's hand. The young man stared at them in fascination, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He'd never gotten this far before.

"No distraction, Steven," Kal murmured suddenly.

With a determined nod, he closed his eyes, centring his very consciousness on those globules of water, forgetting everything else. _Through_ the focus he had on the water, he spread his perceptive sense around the room, like refracted light. It was like he had a 3-D picture of the room in his head. Using that, he slowly moved the water closer and closer to Kal's head, until the globules were right above the creature's head. Steven smiled in satisfaction and prepared to move the globules back toward the open jug, when…

_Tap tap._ "Steven? It's me, Elizabeth. May I come in?"

_Splash_. Steven, startled out of his meditation, inevitably lost control of the water, and it, losing its globular form, fell unceremoniously on Kal's head. A thoroughly disgruntled Kal snapped something in a language Steven couldn't understand; the meaning was obvious however. Steven frowned fiercely. "What was _I_ supposed to do?"

"Uh, Steven?" Though muffled, the concern in his sister's voice was clear. "What's going on in there?"

Gesturing for Kal to get inside the Book, Steven tried in vain to wipe his mattress dry. Once Kal had disappeared, he opened the door, more than a bit annoyed at Elizabeth's intervention. "What?" he snapped.

She widened her eyes, taken aback by her brother's uncharacteristic grumpiness. "Er… I just came to- to take my…book back."

Steven's eyes narrowed in suspicion. The reason, though true, was not the real cause for her coming here, he knew. Damn her "investigative reporter" career ambitions! "Which one?"

"The -er- one by… um, Mary Shelley—_Frankenstein_."

He grabbed the book from his desk and thrust it into her hands. "Thanks," he said shortly. Elizabeth nodded, but didn't make any move to go. "So… did you like it?" she asked, unconsciously fingering the edge of the cover of the book in short, nervous movements. Her eyes kept darting to look around him, and into the room. He stepped farther forward, his broad shoulders obstructing her view. "Yeah, I did. It was… cool." He smiled tightly and shrugged, for lack of a better thing to say. "Well, I should be getting back to my homework." He took a step inside, his fingers resting lightly on the doorknob, giving his sister more than a hint as to what he wanted then.

But the girl just didn't seem to _get _it!

"Say, Steven," the fourteen-year-old said, her aquamarine eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What was that splash I heard inside?"

Steven rolled his eyes, restraining himself, with great difficulty, from yelling at her. "It was nothing, must be somebody from outside." He gestured vaguely toward the window. "Now, if you don't mind, Liz, I should be getting back to work…"

"Is it a play?"

Steven squinted at her. "What?"

"A play," Elizabeth repeated, a smirk lifting a corner of her lips. "I heard you talking to yourself, and might I add that they were pretty weird things for one to be telling oneself, and I was wondering if you were practising for a play."

Her brother very nearly gulped, praying that he was not perspiring too much. "Yeah, I was," he said slowly. "A play… a simple class play, for tomorrow. English Lit. Class."

The smirk still did not fade. "I see… well, thanks for returning the book, Steven." She swirled on her heel and started walking down the stairs. Just before Steven closed the door, however, she turned around, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, and Steven?" she said. "Do say Hi to 'Kal' for me, will you?"

He froze, staring at her in utter horror. She laughed and winked at him, and disappeared down the stairs. With shaking hands, Steven closed the door and sagged against it, disbelieving. Did Elizabeth know everything…?

Kal emerged out of the Book again, a grin splitting his face. "I would not like to be annoying," he said. "But I do believe that I had strongly advised you not to raise your voice."

Steven felt too shocked to even respond. Elizabeth _knew_… Oh god, what was he going to do?

"An interesting girl, your sister," Kal said conversationally. "Intelligent and perceptive… that's good."

Steven glared at him. "_Good_! Yeah, right. She knows everything, and she might just blabber it out…"

"You don't really know that she _knows_ what you think she knows," Kal pointed out. "It is stupid to worry about something that has no proven base. Even if she does, she's not stupid enough to go and spill out to somebody."

Kal's smile grew wider. "But anyway, I am very happy with the progress we've made today- it was spectacular in fact. I'm finally starting to envision a glowing future for the Magic Clan…"

Kal's voice faded away into the distance, as Steven stared out the window at the glorious orange-red sunset. Night would soon fall, but everyone would sleep well, anticipating the next day, the new endeavours, steps that they would take.

He supposed that he should look forward to it, too. Whatever the Raydevils threatened to do to him, whatever Elizabeth knew, whatever nightmare that was in store for him in the future, there would always be light at the end- a bright morning, after a long and treacherous night.

There _was_ a tomorrow, and that gave him hope.


	7. Encounter

**_Chapter 7_**

_Go in, go in, go **in!**_

The words, like a mantra, paraded through most of the minds of the two-hundred-odd students present in the gym, all of their eyes fixed on the single orange ball teetering on the rim of the basket. Silence settled like a stifling blanket across the enormous room, and sweat dripped down Steven's back like hot glaciers. It was the finals of the inter-high school championships, and twenty minutes into the second half, the score was at 56-60, Sweet Valley High. This three-point shot, made by Joe Howell, could be crucial. Steven regretted that the Coach had chosen this moment to put him on the bench…

Suddenly, an almighty wave of roaring and cheering yanked Steven unceremoniously out of his thoughts. Joe had scored! Steven clenched his fists and waved them in the air, beaming, celebrating with the rest of his school. They hadn't won the game, yet, but this basket made things look a lot brighter.

Basketball was an exhilarating, yet tiring game. But, Steven mused, this match and the enormous amounts of practice and preparation that had preceded it seemed like a welcome relaxation, compared to the amount of practice Kal had made him go through, before he could efficiently manage to control elements that were a little bigger than a jug-full of water. They had gone through some interesting defensive techniques, as well…

Steven leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands, elbows on knees, keenly watching the game, though his thoughts were elsewhere. All living things, Kal had said, were governed by a single intangible force, an invisible living energy field, that took extreme skills to tap into. That skill, he had said, was what the Magic Clan had perfected. It involved opening up the seemingly rudimentary part of the human soul- a part that essentially belonged to nature, to this Energy Field, becoming a sentient part _of _it. The energy that could be derived from the mastering of that technique simply knew no ends; was boundless.

Sometimes, it was possible not just to use the Energy Field as a conduit in controlling the natural elements, but to tap into the Field itself. The power generated from such an attunement could be feasible weapon, as well as a means of defence. It took a lot of practice and _patience_, however.

The consequences of using that power depended mostly on the personality of the person exercising it. The Raydevils, tainted by their own greed and ambition, had used this attunement to achieve their own goals- to kill the other members of the Magic Clan. It had had disastrous consequences- so much so that it was nearly noticed by the world outside. Finally, however, the abuse of that power had led to the dormancy of their true selves- only the awakening presence of a person strong in the ways of the Magic Clan could revive them.

But it grew more complicated now, though. The descendants of the Raydevils had only the spirit of the Raydevil magic passed down to them, without the knowledge of what it was. It was almost like a totally different personality residing within them, coming to the surface unexpectedly and leaving just as rapidly, leaving them with no clue as to what had just possessed them.

It was a sorry state, but it couldn't be helped.

"Steven!" Coach Williams' voice once again pulled Steven out of his thoughts. "You're in, now." Steven nodded, and jogged onto the court, exchanging grins and high-fives with the player he was replacing. He could worry about the Magic Clan later.

He had a match to win, now.

* * *

"Elizabeth! Can't you _listen_ for once?"

"Huh?" Elizabeth Wakefield snapped out of her reverie to stare at her friend, Danielle Smith, the pen she had been tapping against her cheek clattering down the bleachers. "Listen to what?"

"Me!" Danielle said, frustrated. "You've been staring into space for ages, now. I doubt you're even watching the game!"

Elizabeth shrugged, sitting up straighter in her seat. "I was just thinking."

Her friend rolled her eyes. "Right- _thinking_," she said sarcastically. "About _what _exactly, may I dare to ask?"

"Nothing in particular," Elizabeth replied, starting to feel a little annoyed. Danielle was a nice girl basically, but sometimes she just demanded too much attention. It was… stifling.

Danielle sighed. "At least pay attention to the game… hey, I think Steven's going for a shot!"

Elizabeth shifted her attention back to the match, in time to see Steven pounding down the court, the basketball in his hand only an orange blur between the gym's polished floor and his palm. Elizabeth watched, fascinated, as Steven sidestepped and manoeuvred around all opposition that came up before him, his team mates coming up and supporting him in perfect unison.

Basketball was the one thing Steven had always excelled at- the sport was a major passion of his, as was academics. People had wondered- still wondered in fact- how the two seemingly varying interests seemed to balance themselves in Steven Wakefield. They were assuming, of course, that basketball needs more brawn than brain, and vice-versa for studies. But in many ways, the two stimulated the brain in similar patterns- sometimes basketball even more so, since you had to make strategic decisions in a split second.

That's what Steven had told her, anyway.

But there was something within Steven that… that just _made_ him be so. Something alluring, yet scary; distinct yet vague… Elizabeth had been sensing that in her brother for the past two weeks now, and that, coupled with his increasing introverted ness, made her suspicious. Also, the strange things he'd been talking to himself a few nights back- about somebody called Kal and some other crap… she had found it funny, had intended to express her amusement, but the horrified expression on Steven's face after she'd teased him only peaked her curiosity.

Something was _definitely_ afoot.

It seemed to be the same with her sister, too- she'd been hanging around with Lila all day, giggling now and then, and gracing everybody she met with sly, sidelong glances; it was obvious she knew a secret that nobody else knew. Elizabeth sighed. _I wonder how she managed to keep it secret for so long…_Her sister's reputation as a gossiper was well-known.

She was brought out of her reverie as Danielle squeezed her shoulder in excitement. "Oh, look!" she said, her voice muffled thanks to the fingernails she had between her teeth, "I think he's going to shoot!"

Elizabeth watched, intent, as Steven came closer, and closer, closer… the opposition practically surrounding him. She wasn't sure if that was according to the rules- frankly, she was not anyone to talk about basketball- but the referee kept mum. Unable to outmanoeuvre them, Steven sent a subtle pass to Bruce, who was jogging in support by his side. With a grin, the 15 year old caught it neatly and pounded down the court, his way virtually clear. Elizabeth bit her lip. With the score tied and barely a few minutes left in the last half, this basket could very well win them the championships. As the screams of encouragement from the crowd grew louder, and the cheering of the cheerleaders more enthusiastic, Bruce ran closer and closer to the basket, an anticipatory grin on his face, until…

He tripped.

He fell sprawling and sliding across the polished wooden floor, the basketball flying up from his hands. The crowd gasped as a St. Joe team member leaped for it, as did Steven. They crashed, and fell to the floor in a tangle, the basketball within their midst. Steven was the first to untangle himself and he sprang up and across the court, dribbling the basketball, while the person he'd ousted got up and followed him fiercely with his team-mates.

Sweat slithered down Elizabeth's back and her eyes flitted to the gymnasium timer. Barely half-a-minute was remaining…

Steven ran, dodged, passed, received, dodged, dribbled.

_Sixteen… Fifteen… fourteen…_

Bruce once again ran up in support, along with Joe Howell, his face nearly tomato-red with embarrassment. The coach was silent for once, tense, while the cheerleaders screamed the Steven's name as high as they could, galvanising the crowd.

_Ten… Nine… Eight…_

Steven finally approached the basket, and half-crouched in preparation to shoot.

_Six… Five… Four…_

He leapt up, and just as the basketball left his fingers, an opposition member leapt in a try to obtain the ball, thereby spoiling Steven's aim. The basketball, instead of sailing in a smooth arc toward the basket, shot toward the dashboard. Elizabeth gulped in trepidation.

_Three…_

The ball slammed against the dashboard…

_Two…_

It thankfully bounced onto the rim, teetering…

_One…_

…swivelling indecisively…

_Zero!_

…before falling back onto the court.

The boos from the crowd reached a crescendo, shaking the very supporting rafters of the gym, while the screams of relief from the St. Joe high students matched them to every decibel.

"Overtime!" the referee announced, much to the relief of the SVH team. They immediately went to their positions, a stern glare from the coach enough to make them pull themselves back together effectively.

"Oh, come-on!" Danielle cried in frustration. "You have _got _to win this!"

Once again the excitement started- adrenaline pumped through her body as she watched the two teams on the court battling for the orange sphere. _Not much time…_ she thought desperately, every movement of the clock's second hand feeling like a needle of despair being pushed further and further into her heart.

Finally, seemingly leaping out of the battle with the ball in his hands was Steven, like a dolphin breaking through the surface of the ocean. He threw the ball in a clean, short arc- this time a range he couldn't miss, and the ball slid neatly through the orange mesh of the basket, just as the shrill whistle of the referee sounded. After that, there was silence, until…

The gymnasium broke out into a riot of sound, colour and cheering.

Elizabeth and Danielle jumped up and danced, clutching each other and laughing weakly. This was the first time SVH had ever won the championships- a momentous occasion, if there ever was one. When they finally broke apart, Danielle had calmed down enough to say, "You didn't take notes for your article."

Elizabeth glanced at her notepad, lying on her seat, empty of the points she had planned to jot down to help her write the article covering the championships for the _Oracle_. She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I think I'll remember this game for quite some time to come!"

Danielle laughed and nodded in agreement, and the two of them went to join their friends in their euphoria. Elizabeth met her twin sister along the way. "Where's Lila?" she asked.

Jessica smirked secretively. "Attending to business." With that, she tossed her hair back and disappeared into the crowd, leaving a very confused Elizabeth staring after her. She glanced to the court where the team members had hefted Steven onto their shoulders, cheering themselves hoarse. She found herself unable to smile at the sight, suddenly, overcome by a wave of foreboding. Something was going to happen…

And she could bet her life that it was not going to be something good.

* * *

_Life's good…_

Steven sagged against the locker's shower-room wall contentedly, playing with the little globules of water from the shower. The rest of the team, after the presentation ceremony, had left quite a while ago, but Steven had stayed back for sometime, to savour the sweet taste of a hard-won victory.

Memories of the game played vividly in his head- every exciting, tense moment coming to life within his imagination. It had got to have been the toughest game he'd ever played, and he'd thoroughly enjoyed the challenge; even more attaining victory in it. _Must thank Patman for making it even tougher,_ Steven thought, a wicked smirk curving his lips. Bruce tripping over his own feet while running for a crucial shot had to have been the best part of the game. Oh, the expression on Bruce's face… priceless!

Still chuckling, Steven let go of the globules from his power, and they splashed to the ground. Quickly pulling on a T-Shirt and jeans and hefting his sports bag on his shoulder, he made his way out onto the empty, darkened gym.

"Steven Wakefield."

Steven stopped short at the chilling voice, the incisive tone through which the syllables were spoken sending shivers down his spine. There was something just not right…

"Yeah?" he called out. "Who is it?"

There was a laugh. "For a descendant of the legendary Alisa McClaire, you _are _pretty dense."

_Alisa McClaire!_ At the mention of his mother's name, his bag slipped from his slumped shoulders and fell to the floor with a thud. Steven's heart rate increased manifold, and he stood there, gaping, too surprised even to answer.

He saw a human figure – the owner of the voice, no doubt – drop to the floor ahead of him, from the bleachers. The silhouette stretched out his arms, and a glowing red light appeared in between them, sparking with power from The Energy Field, throwing shadows over his still unrecognisable face.

Steven's memory went into full gear. This was what Kal had warned him about- this guy was a Raydevil! "Shit," he whispered, taking an involuntary step back.

"Yes," the guy smiled, stepping forward, into the relatively lighter part of the gym. "Curse all you like, Wakefield, but you're not going to escape death."

_The face…_ Steven thought, panicking, _It's so familiar…_ Then he was finally able to place the face, and his breath immediately caught in his chest. _No… it's impossible…_

It was Bruce Patman.

* * *


	8. First Battle

**_A/N:_** Better late than never, eh?

_**Chapter 8**_

"Where could he be?"

Lila Fowler's anxious voice broke the tense moment, as Jessica Wakefield gazed at the gymnasium entrance from behind the school library building. She turned to look at her friend. "I don't know, Lila," she sighed. "We've been waiting for, like, about an _hour_ now, and he still hasn't shown up."

"Do you think that we should go back in and – "

"_No._" Jessica's eyes narrowed. "No. We'll wait here for some more time. He has to come out _some_ time. Besides, Lila, these things take a bit of patience."

Lila scowled. "Well, at least _you_ seem to know what you're doing."

Jessica smirked. "Of course. It's _so _obvious. I found what was going on with you, and I'd figured that you'd need some expert advice." She took on a smug air. "That is, advice from _me_."

Lila rolled her eyes, but didn't proceed to dispute her friend's statement. "Still beats me _how_ you found out."

Her best friend's eyes twinkled. "Oh, I have my ways," Jessica said nonchalantly, before returning her gaze back to the gymnasium entrance. There was, however, a growing feeling of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach, though she was doing quite a good job of hiding it from Lila.

_What is it that's wrong?_ She wondered. _Am I doing the right thing here? Or could it be that I'm rushing things?_

She looked back at Lila, who was staring unblinkingly at the gym building, and sighed to her herself, wishing that she had consulted her more sensible sister, before taking the matter into her own hands. It was not the first time she had felt this way, but this time…

_I have a feeling I'm in **way** over my head…_

* * *

"Surprised?" 

Bruce Patman stepped closer and closer, the red ball of energy between his hands intensifying and growing larger with every step. "You didn't expect it to be _me_, did you, Wakefield?" A smug smirk grew on his face. "No, I don't think you'd have suspected me in a million years." He was obviously very pleased with himself. "It is a most delightful strategy – surprising the enemy, hmmm?"

Steven took another involuntary step back. "Enemies?" he echoed. "Are we, really, Bruce? I mean, we don't _have_ to be – listen, if it's the trip up in the game that's gotten you so worked up, then I swear that I'll talk the guys out of teasing you about it; I'm sure they'll listen to me…" Steven knew he was rambling mindlessly, but he needed the time to gather his wits. "And also, maybe I could…"

"Silence!" Bruce cried, thrusting his arms forward. The red energy between them suddenly came to life, sparking and levitating into the air, before rushing at Steven with all the speed and force of a cannon ball, leaving a red, comet-like trail in its wake.

There was nothing that Steven could do about it.

The ball of energy hit him in the chest with the force of a truck, slamming him against the gym wall, and knocking all the wind out of him. The energy dissipated, and Steven fell to the floor, gasping. Bruce stepped even closer, smiling again. "Well, how did you like _that_, Steven? Have a taste of your own Mother's medicine as you suffer a pathetic death…"

"Idiot," Steven whispered, struggling to his feet, and running his hand gently over his ribs. Nothing seemed to be cracked or broken, but it sure did hurt like hell. "I _felt_ the energy you threw at me – not just physically, but also in a deeper way. There was a darkness in it that I'm sure my Mother would never have been capable of."

Bruce scowled fiercely. "You have not the authority to speak of the Energy Field, let alone the purity of that generated by your mother, _novice_! You shall succumb to your morbid destiny _now_, without further ado!"

Steven blinked. With Bruce speaking like that, Steven was now sure that Bruce was not himself. The _real_ Bruce Patman probably had no idea what he was doing, but all the damage brought upon by the Raydevil personality within Bruce would affect the real Bruce as well, and it was very much possible that the real Bruce had to face the consequences of his alter-personality's actions on his own, without even knowing how or why it had happened.

It was just so _unfair_.

Steven frowned, trying to check the white-hot anger that was climbing up his veins. He needed to think straight right then – had to devise a way by which he could defeat the Raydevil while not inflicting much damage on Bruce himself. That energy which Bruce had thrown at him, he knew, had just been a warm-up, even though it had almost crushed his chest. More than afraid of what Bruce might be able to do to him, Steven was afraid what _he_ might able to do to _Bruce_.

He came back to the present in time to see another ball of energy forming between Bruce's palms. "You'd better be ready," he growled, taking his arms to a position from where he could throw a direct, powerful blow onto Steven. He thrust his arms forward.

"Oh, I'm ready," Steven said through gritted teeth, jumping away from the energy in a half-somersault, half-tumble. Rising once again to his feet, and noting the enormous dent in the gym wall, Steven's jaw dropped. "You really mean business, don't you?"

"It took you this long to realise that?" Bruce was already with another attack, and it took Steven another display of gymnastics to avoid it. "You can't keep running, you know," Bruce shouted, aiming yet another attack at Steven. The latter knew he was right, of course, running wasn't going to get him anywhere; there _had _to be another way…

_Wood… the bleachers are made of wood… trees!_ Placing one hand on the bleachers behind him, he concentrated, trying to ignore the fact that Bruce was charging at him just then. He reached beyond the chemicals – all the varnishes and paint – and touched the deepest pits of the dead cells in the wood, finding an abundance of the Energy Field where once the cell had been filled with life-giving cytoplasm. He remembered Kal's words during their training:

"_Don't even **think** about the fact that there is an Energy Field there, or that there is anything there at all; instead, think that you** are** the water, that you exist as the water, and that the water exists as you. And there, Steven, you will find all the power that you need…"_

It had sounded more like dialogue from a boring sci-fi supernatural novel then, but Steven realised the significance of the words just then. He was the wood, and the wood was Steven, and they would face up to Bruce's attacks.

A blue glow enveloped the portion of bleachers behind Steven, and tore away, the wooden planks forming a rather clumsy shield in front of Steven that nevertheless took the brunt of Bruce's next throw. Shattered to pieces by the energy, the pieces scattered to all corners of the gym. Steven finally opened his eyes and gave a low whistle at the sight of the destruction. "That was… interesting."

For some reason, this remark seemed to infuriate Bruce even more. "Think you're so clever, do you? A clumsy display of power if I've ever seen one…"

Steven smiled placidly. "Well, you don't sound too sure of that statement yourself."

"Shut up!" Bruce raised his hands, the gesture followed by an ominous creaking sound right above Steven. The seventeen-year-old gulped, looking up. "Please, I hope you're not doing what I _think_ you're doing…" But it was too late. The heavy rafters above Steven gave one last piercing creak, before they tumbled down.

And all he could do was watch, and pray that his death was a quick one.

* * *

_Steven._

Elizabeth Wakefield stopped in her tracks, her stopping accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. Amy Sutton and Danielle Waters, realising that their friend suddenly wasn't with them anymore, backtracked a few steps on the sidewalk to join Elizabeth.

"Hey, what's wrong, Liz?" Amy asked, concerned.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, but no sound seemed able to escape her lips. Nausea swirled in the pit of her stomach, and perspiration pricked at her brow. She didn't know why she was feeling like this – she had no reason to feel such foreboding, after all. It was supposed to be a moment of complete euphoria – her school had just won the championships after quite a long time, and her big brother had been the driving force behind the victory…

_Big brother._

The feeling washed over her all over again. Groaning, she leaned against the compound wall behind her, closing her eyes. Steven was in a very dangerous situation – but what?

Amy and Danielle were more than just concerned now. "Are you feeling ill or something, Liz?" Danielle asked. "Because if you are, maybe we should cancel that trip to Casey's…"

Elizabeth opened her eyes abruptly. "No," she said. "You two go ahead; I'll catch up…"

"But –"

"Listen." Elizabeth looked Amy in the eye. "Nothing's wrong with me. I just happened to remember that I left my notes back at the gym, that's all. You two go on ahead; I'll run back to the gym, get my notes and catch up later."

With that, she turned around, and was soon out of sight.

Amy blinked. "Wow. What's wrong with _her_? I've never known Liz to forget her precious notes before."

Danielle narrowed her eyes. "That's right. But this time, she didn't _make_ any."

Amy cast a sharp glance at her. "You mean to say that…?"

Her friend nodded, and Amy set her lips in a determined line.

"Let's go after her, then!"

* * *

_Stop!_

Putting his arms over his head, Steven went down on his knees, trying to concentrate, not on the rafters falling above him – he had no time for that – but on _himself_. Gathering the Energy Field that was flowing through and around him, he surrounded himself with it, to act as a shield. A flickering blue glow soon emanated from him.

The rafters fell on and around him with resounding _thuds_, crushing the bleachers behind him with their tremendous weight. Steven winced each time one fell on him, but thankfully, his 'shield' seemed to be working. Opening his eyes once the rafters stopped falling, he rose to his feet. "I hope you realise that I'm not that easy to get rid of."

He had the pleasure of seeing something akin to surprised admiration in Bruce's eyes, before the Raydevil in him snarled, "That was nothing; I'll get you this time."

"I'm afraid not," Steven said through gritted teeth, and brought his own arms forward, between which there was a ball of blue energy sparking. Steven took some time to compose himself, hoping that the display of the energy would intimidate Bruce for a while. He had no idea how or when he did it, but that didn't matter now. He immersed himself in the Energy Field flowing around him, forgetting all logic, and that nagging feeling that the whole situation felt like a rather unimaginatively written science fiction novel.

He could feel Bruce getting ready to counter Steven's attack as well, after which everything fell silent. So silent, in fact, that Steven could practically hear the beads of perspiration skipping over the miniscule pores of his skin on their way down his face. It was as if the very room they were standing in was taking a long, deep, deep breath before the plunge.

But plunge into _what_, exactly? Steven had no idea what he could do with his power. Kal hadn't come to _that_ part of the lesson yet… or maybe the firsk's intention from the beginning was to let Steven find out for himself. Would he ever know Kal's true intentions? Did he even _need_ to know?

He didn't think so.

Opening his eyes, he thrust his arms forward, releasing that pent-up energy that he had been building around himself. He had expected rather violent consequences on his body, but all he felt was a cool, exhilarating freshness – much like that experienced when jumping into a pool of deliciously cold water. At the same time, Bruce imitated his action, and the two balls of energy collided in mid-air, releasing a tremendous amount of aftershocks that sent Bruce and Steven flying. Steven smashed into the bleachers and everything went black for a while.

Soon, however, consciousness returned to him, and he picked himself up slowly, testing his body. It was a bundle of bruises, but nothing seemed to be broken, thankfully. He looked across the gym to where Bruce was lying on the wooden floor, seemingly out cold.

Almost tentatively – partly due to caution and partly due to his aching body – Steven made his way to the fallen fifteen year old. He kneeled next to him, gently touching the boy's shoulder. "Bruce?" he whispered. "Bruce, you okay?"

Bruce did not stir at Steven's touch, and the latter grew worried. Moving his shaking fingers to Bruce's neck, he tried to feel for a pulse. He was so… so… _cold_, and… so still…

_Please, let him not be dead…

* * *

_


	9. Untangle

_**Chapter 9**_

Things couldn't have gotten worse.

Jessica Wakefield looked out in the dim light of the rapidly darkening sky to see Elizabeth running toward her direction. She and Lila had given up waiting behind the library building, and had started walking up the gym stairs, especially after that crashing noise they had just heard. Just what _was _going on in there?

And, to top it all off, Elizabeth _had_ to come running in to interfere.

Lila made an impatient clicking noise in her throat as Elizabeth approached them. "Jessica! Lila!" Elizabeth cried. "Have you seen Steven?"

The two girls shrugged. "Can't say I have," Jessica said nonchalantly. "Why are you so worried, anyway?"

Elizabeth faltered. "I… I don't know." She shook her long braid back. "I didn't see him coming out of the gym, and… I guess I got worried."

"Oh, don't worry," Jessica said, rolling her eyes. "He's probably still savouring the victory. You know how he is."

Before her sister could reply, however, Lila let out a small cry of distress. "Oh, Gods, no…"

The twins turned to look in Lila's direction to see Amy and Danielle running toward them. Jessica stamped her foot in frustration. "This isn't a damned club meeting, Liz!" she said furiously to her sister. "Why did you have to bring them along, too?"

"I didn't," Elizabeth retorted. "They just came along – I told them to wait for me."

While Jessica and Elizabeth glared at each other, Amy and Danielle had caught up. "What's up with the hurry, Liz?" Amy said, catching her breath.

"Yeah," Danielle concurred. She reached into her pocket and brought out a small blue notebook. "At least think of a better excuse next time – I have your notebook with me, because you didn't _make_ any notes."

Elizabeth blushed and faltered again. "I came here because… I was worried about Steven. Nothing more to it."

"For Pete's sake, Liz," Lila snapped, "Your brother's _seventeen_, not _seven_. He can take care of himself."

Elizabeth shot Lila a dirty look. Neither of them had gotten very well along with each other. "What are you two doing here in the first place, then?"

It was now Jessica's turn to falter. "Well, we're waiting for…"

She was interrupted by Lila grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the gym doors. "Enough with the talk already," she said. "Let's _go in_."

And with that, the two of them disappeared into the gym.

Elizabeth, Amy and Danielle looked at each other, before Elizabeth sighed and walked toward the gym doors herself. "Might as well go in," she said, pushing open the doors. Her two friends nodded, and followed her in.

Nothing could've prepared them for the sight that was about to greet them.

* * *

_Just when everything had been going well, for a change…_

Steven kneaded his knuckles against his pounding forehead, languishing in the murky depths of despair. Bruce was alive, alright, but he just didn't seem to _wake up_, how much ever Steven had shook him and called his name. Even emptying his water-bottle on the guy's face hadn't done the trick. Steven was now more than just scared – he was _terrified_. What if he had gone too far with his magic? What if Bruce was in a coma he might never wake up from? And to top it all, Steven's bruised body was also sending constant distress signals to his brain.

What's a guy to _do_ in a situation like this?

"Bruce, please," Steven muttered, shaking the boy's shoulder again, with a strength born out of utter hopelessness. "Wake up… if you do, I swear I'll make you vice-captain of the team…"

To his surprise, Bruce shifted slightly, groaning. His eyelids fluttered open, and he slowly pushed himself onto his elbows. "Wha –?" he started groggily, before Steven clapped him on the back, letting out a whoop of joy. "You're awake!"

Bruce winced, then blinked at Steven in confusion. _What the hell…?_

Steven knelt down next to him, and extended his hand. "Can you stand up?" he asked. Bruce nodded, and with Steven's help, rose shakily to his feet. "What happened?" he muttered.

Steven shrugged. "I don't know – one moment we were just standing here, talking, and the next, the whole damn gym was falling on top of us." He shook his head in a disapproving manner, letting out breath through pursed lips, trying to hide his delight at finding Bruce all right again. "Faulty construction, I suppose. Or maybe an earthquake."

Bruce frowned. "I don't remember us talking… in fact, I don't remember anything at all after the game – it's… it's a blank." His brow knotted as he tried to recollect. "I just remember… a lot of pain…"

Putting an arm around the younger boy's shoulder in a sympathetic manner, Steven was just about to say something friendly – _Friendly to **Bruce**? Yup, this magic has sure turned my life upside down_ – before the gym doors opened, and Jessica and Lila entered.

And right on their heels, Elizabeth, and her friends, Amy and Danielle.

And he had wondered how the evening could get any worse.

Almost as one, the jaws of the five girls dropped, eyes widening. Steven took a look around himself, and could immediately understand their shock. What had previously been an immaculately polished and well-kept gym now looked like it had been hit by a hurricane, and then scavenged by a particularly gigantic rat. The hole in the bleachers where he had pulled out the wood to defend himself, looked particularly prominent, Steven mused despondently.

"What… what just _happened_ here?" Jessica managed to gasp out, finally. Before Steven could reply, Bruce spoke up, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic dull quality. "Apparently, there was an earthquake, and the whole freakin' gym fell right on top of us."

"Earthquake?" Danielle tilted her head. "There was no earthquake… at least I don't _think_ I felt anything…"

"Still, you never know," Amy said diplomatically, shrugging her shoulders.

"Whatever," Bruce muttered, and pushed past Steven and the girls, striding toward the gym doors. Before he reached out to push them, Steven's voice stopped him. "Bruce!" he called. As the boy turned his head, he continued, "You _are_ okay… right?"

A strange anger – an anger that Bruce couldn't even explain to _himself_ – rushed into the fifteen-year-old's eyes, and he growled, "I don't need _you_ worrying about me, Wakefield."

With that, he strode out of the gym, slamming the doors shut behind him.

Lila let out a small gasp, and ran out of the gym herself, calling, "Bruce!"

Absolute silence reigned as the doors closed behind her. Steven shifted his attention back to his sisters, and his eyes narrowed. "So: what are _you_ two doing around here? Shouldn't you be at Casey's or something?"

Before Elizabeth could open her mouth to answer, Jessica replied coldly, "What we were doing here is none of your concern, Steven. Besides, we heard the loud crash in the gym, and just _had_ to come and check it out…"

"Yeah," Elizabeth concurred. "Some crash, this is. Are you okay?"

Steven nodded. "Yeah – just a few bruises." _And probably a cracked rib or two, but let's not get into that._

"In reality," Danielle began suddenly, "We didn't come here because we heard the crash." Steven looked up sharply at her. Danielle continued, "We _were_ on our way to Casey's when Liz suddenly freaked out and rushed back here, because she thought you were in trouble." She smiled, her smile a mixture of awe and amusement. "And she was right, wasn't she?"

Steven's and Elizabeth's eyes met that instant, and an indescribable feeling lingered in the air. "Yeah, she was right," Steven muttered. It was getting really confusing – had Elizabeth sensed that Steven had been engaged in a fight? Or was it really good intuition? Whatever it was, it seemed like his secret was edging closer and closer to being discovered…

Suddenly, he thought: maybe confiding in somebody was not such a bad idea. But then again, that person might be a Raydevil… He shuddered as he realised the implications of his current predicament. _Anybody _around him could be a Raydevil. Friends, family, teachers, team-mates… suddenly, the people he had considered to be the closest to him had become his greatest enemies.

He tried to imagine Elizabeth or Jessica, or Joe, or even his father try to fight and kill him like Bruce had just done. He couldn't bear the mental images that popped into his head. Was this his new destiny, living under a canopy of fear and danger wherever he went? To live in constant fear of his very friends and family? If it was, he didn't like it very much. But he had no choice in the matter, did he?

He sighed. Choices didn't matter anymore. He had already chosen. What obstacles would come on his path, he didn't know. But he was sure of one thing:

He would just have to face them when they did.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Bruce Patman froze on the walkway outside the school and turned sharply. Lila Fowler was standing a few steps behind him, delicate brow pulled together in a concerned frown. The night breeze gently pulled at her skirt and loose chestnut hair, and her blue eyes seemed to glow in the dimming light. Bruce shook himself inwardly and his eyes narrowed. "Yeah, yeah," he said in an exasperated tone. "I'm okay. Now just leave me alone." With that, he turned to go again, but Lila had caught up by his side. "You didn't have to _snap_ at me, you know," she said.

"Well, if you'd just leave me alone, maybe I wouldn't have to _snap_ at you," Bruce retorted, irritated. On top of the fact that he had just found himself under the debris of a collapsed gym (with _Wakefield_, of all people!) with no recollection of how or why he got there, Lila just _had_ to come and start another fight! What was one to do to get some _peace_, for once? He had enough on his plate already without Lila spoiling his evening further.

Maybe the worst thing of it all was that Lila looked breathtakingly beautiful that night…

_Pull yourself together, Patman_, he told himself sternly. Once again, he began to resume his walk away from the school. Lila ran up to keep up with him. "Bruce, wait," she said. "I have something to say to you."

Bruce stopped short and raised his eyebrow at her, in a fashion he knew irritated her. "Oh?"

She frowned for a moment, but soon seemed to regain her composure. "Listen," she began. "I'm sorry about the other day, when – when I insulted you in front of Jessica." She shook her head. "I really am. Even the date the other night was not good."

The molten triumph that Bruce felt gushing through his veins at that moment materialised into a smirk on his face. "I see," he drawled. "So you came all the way here to admit to your mistake?" He gave a short chuckle. "Didn't think it was possible for you to do that."

Lila looked as if she were to come back with a sharp retort – as was their custom – but instead, she just sighed. "I wish we didn't have to fight like this, Bruce," she said, her voice carrying a sincere note that was quite alien to Bruce. "It seems so pointless… we only seem to be hurting each other, and… and building up resentment." She started talking faster now, nearly stumbling over her words. "I'm hoping… that the relationship between us will be… something _other_ than resentment from now on, and… um…"

"Lila," Bruce interrupted, eyes wide. "What exactly are you trying to tell me here?"

She took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to tell you, Bruce," she said, "is that… I like you. As in… really _like_ you."

Bruce took a step back in astonishment. Lila looked levelly at him. "I suppose I've liked you for quite some time, now… but it's just recently that I realised it myself." She shook her head. "Ironic that Jessica noticed it before even I did." She took a step toward him. "I had been waiting outside the gym to tell you…"

Bruce couldn't believe his ears. He was tempted to pinch himself to check if it was all a dream. But then again, if it _was_ a dream, he never wanted to wake up from it. "This… this is so… out-of-character, Lila," he stammered.

Lila raised her chin, holding her head high. Defiance shone in her blue irises as she said, "I had to tell you sometime or the other – a Fowler is never afraid of confrontation."

Bruce suddenly, inexplicably found himself smiling. Typical Lila. He stepped closer to her and his smile widened into his most charming grin – a grin that was amplified at the sight of Lila gaping in delighted wonder. "A Patman is always honest, too," he said quietly. He gazed into her eyes.

"You free this Saturday night?"

* * *


	10. Imminent

**_Chapter 10_**

"_What_?"

Steven Wakefield winced in the wake of Joe Howell's rather loudly expressed disbelief. "Keep it _down_, will you?" he whispered fiercely, glancing furtively in the seemingly empty hallway they were standing in. "You'll have half the town here if you keep yelling like that."

"What do you expect me to do?"

Steven eyed his friend wryly. "You really don't want to listen to a long list, do you, now?"

Joe shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. But why didn't you tell me before that you were there when the gym collapsed… with _Patman_, of all people?"

"So that you wouldn't do in front of everybody what you're doing right now." Steven gave a distressed sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "Listen… about the vice-captain position you hold on the SVH team?"

Joe's enthusiasm disappeared almost immediately, as if Steven had just flicked a switch off within his best friend. A suspicious light entered his blue eyes and he squinted at Steven. "Yeah… what about it?"

"Well…" Steven shifted his feet, as if he found whatever he intended to say extremely painful, indeed. "I'm going to have to… ask you to… give that position up."

Joe did not respond as Steven had expected him to. "Listen, man," he said, grinning, "I know you're not very good with jokes, and this might be your attempt to get better at 'em. But, man, even for a first attempt, that _sucked_."

Steven bit back a groan. _Trust Joe to make this even harder…_ "This is not a joke, Joe," Steven said, trying to muster as much apology into his expression as possible. "I'm asking you to… er, resign from that position, and… give it to Bruce."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "This is not funny, Steven."

Steven's voice rose a few octaves. "That's my _point_, Joe – this is _not_ a joke, and I'm _not_ trying to be funny. I'm being bloody serious!"

A myriad emotions seemed to flick through Joe's eyes – from disbelief, surprise, anger to _betrayal_, before he asked simply, "Why?"

_Why…_ Steven thought back to what had happened that fateful night, and how he had been unable to sleep afterwards, tortured by guilt, apprehension, and worry regarding Bruce's condition. He had phoned the very next morning, anxious to know the status of Bruce's health. The result of the phone call was rather… bittersweet, Steven mused.

Bittersweet as hell.

Bruce had replied that he was perfectly fine, thank you very much, and that he hoped that Steven would follow up on the promise that the latter had made back in the gym. His tone had been full of mocking laughter, and Steven regretted his possession of an overly large mouth and an equally bloated sense of honour and promise.

And so here he was now, asking his best friend to give up the position he had cherished for months.

"Well, I made a promise to him, and well…" _Aw hell, I'm going to start twiddling my thumbs any moment now…_ "Hope you can forgive me, man – it's just that…"

"Wait." Joe put up his palms, effectively stopping Steven in his tracks. "It's okay, really. I mean, who cares about being a _vice-captain_, particularly on a _basketball_ team, eh?" He laughed hollowly. "It's not like it's a special position or anything. Besides, it'll stop all those rumours regarding you showing favouritism."

"Joe, please –" Steven stopped suddenly, frowning. "Rumours? Favouritism?"

His friend just flashed him a weary smile, and exited the hallway, leaving Steven in a confused – and soul-burningly guilty – daze.

* * *

Something was going to happen.

Elizabeth Wakefield took a reluctant bite of her sandwich, frowning at her own paranoia. What had come over her lately? Had the gym incident affected her so much? Did she think that she had some kind of ESP, or something? Suddenly her lips contorted, and her eyes widened in horror and disgust.

One thing was for certain, at least.

The sandwich tasted _terrible_.

Swallowing the mouthful she had taken in with great difficulty, she examined the sandwich. _Oh wow. I put yoghurt instead of butter._ Her lips twitched. _And mashed pickle instead of jelly. Eurgh. No wonder._ Obviously she hadn't been paying much attention to her culinary pursuits on return from school. Also, obviously, she didn't want her taste buds to have the misfortune of being the victims of her absentminded carelessness once again, and so she set the sorry piece of bread down and sat back to analyse the cause of her paranoia. Surely, it had all begun the day when…

Her musings were interrupted by the front door slamming open, then close, and her very bedraggled looking older brother entering the kitchen. Normally, she wouldn't have bothered pursuing any sort of conversation beyond a greeting, but the downcast expression on his face aroused her curiosity.

And, of course, she couldn't ignore _that_.

"Hey Steve," she greeted. "What's up?"

"Up?" He laughed alarmingly bitterly, before practically throwing himself into a kitchen chair and leaning back. "Oh, nothing. Absolutely nothing." His voice was muffled by the arm that he had draped tiredly over his face.

Elizabeth nearly took another bite of her sandwich before stopping herself in time. Okay, so he didn't seem to be _too_ keen on opening up to her…

"Hey, Liz," he said suddenly. "You alone here?"

"Y-yeah," Elizabeth said guardedly.

"Jess – "

"Cheerleading practice."

"Mom – "

"Gone shopping."

"And Dad – "

"He's not back from work yet."

"Oh. I see." Steven removed his hand from his face and looked across the table at her sandwich. Elizabeth immediately snatched it away and lobbed it into the wastebasket with an apologetic grin. "That sandwich isn't exactly palatable, you know…"

Steven raised an eyebrow.

Elizabeth shrugged. "Well, if you like yoghurt and pickle in your sandwich, I _could_ make you another one."

Steven stared at her for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Yoghurt and pickle? Liz, you sure you're not really Jessica?"

His sister grinned. "I'm sure. Hey, I worry about things too, rather _like_ some people." She gave a pointed, very meaningful glance in his direction. Steven's eyebrows rose impressively once again, before something seemed to snap within him, and he settled deeper in his chair, seemingly folding in on himself.

Elizabeth frowned. "I'm expecting a more eloquent answer to 'What's up', now."

A couple of minutes passed in complete silence, before Elizabeth lost her patience. "Is it about your break-up with Tanya?"

Steven started, before stuttering, "Y-yeah, That – that's it. Tanya."

"You mean she hasn't talked to you yet?"

"No." Steven's voice grew stronger, more frustrated. "She hasn't said a word to me, not even after the 'gym incident', as the school has so infamously named the stupid thing." He ran a hand through his hair. "And now this problem with Joe…"

"Joe?"

"I told him to resign from his position as vice-captain of the basketball team," Steven explained, starting to look miserable once again. "So that Bruce could take it up."

It was Elizabeth's turn to raise her eyebrows impressively. "I don't even want to ask." She sighed. "And about Tanya… this is the first time you two have had a fight, right? She'll eventually get over it. Besides," she continued before Steven could interrupt, "It's about time you had one. Pursuing a relationship with absolutely no problems is not only unnatural, it's scary."

Steven grinned ruefully, before realising Joe had said pretty much the same thing to him before. "You sure seem to know a lot about this."

Elizabeth smiled. "I'm tempted to say 'experience', but really, I don't want any unwarranted questioning."

"Hey, _you're_ the reporter here."

"True." She laughed and rose from her chair. "I – I guess I'd better get going, then – I have that lab report I need to apply the finishing touches on, and of course, editing that article about your game for the _Oracle_…" She realised that she was blabbering here, but that wave of paranoia had suddenly washed over her once again, and she didn't want Steven to notice her discomfort, particularly when it largely concerned _him_…

Steven watched, bemused, as Elizabeth made an abrupt exit from the kitchen. _Elizabeth, uncomfortable? Now I've seen it all…_ He rose as well, picking up his backpack from the chair on which he had carelessly slung it. He'd better be going too… boy, did he have a few things to say to Kal…

He found the little firsk sitting cross-legged on his bed, seemingly in deep meditation. Steven hadn't had a chance to speak to him the night before, and the fact that he had overslept that morning meant that he had to postpone his little 'conference' with Kal until that evening.

Until _now_.

Suddenly infused with a new sense of irritated righteousness, Steven dropped his bag on his desk and sat down with much heaviness on the edge of his bed. The mattress bounced, unstable, but Kal continued to be deeply immersed in his meditation. "Kal," Steven called softly, before raising his voice in response to the firsk's quiet. "_Kal_!"

"KAL!"

Still no response.

Frustrated, Steven held out his hand, feeling the influx of that delightful energy as a blue aura surrounded it. He focussed on the water in the jug on his bedside table, and with the improved dexterity and speed he had achieved over the past few weeks, hovered the globules over the firsk's head. "If you don't open your eyes _now_," Steven whispered, rather enjoying the childish petulance he was feeling at the moment, "I'm going to dunk this over your head."

Nothing.

"Fine – you asked for it." With a mock sigh, Steven released the tension in his muscles in his outstretched arm, and the aura flickered and wavered. Before the globules, now released of his power, could obey gravity though, Kal quickly twisted out of the way. Steven smiled smugly. "See? _Knew_ it was a sure way to wake you up."

To his annoyance, Kal just smiled.

That irritating, tolerant, mentor-inwardly-laughing-at-the-student's-childishness sort of smile.

Steven hated _that_.

"See? _Knew_ it was a sure way to make you practice," Kal said, in an uncanny imitation of Steven's voice. He ducked as Steven sent a pillow flying at his head. "You do not seem to be in a mood conducive to humour this evening, I see."

"Of course not." Steven sighed. "You _know_ what happened last night, right?"

"Yes," Kal said, surprisingly casually. As if the thing happened every night. "You fought with your first Raydevil," he continued – ignoring Steven's "_First…? It's not a game, dammit!_" – "And though I still believe that you could have handled the situation slightly better…" – "_What?_" – "I must say I'm rather proud of how you did in the end."

"Proud?" Steven questioned sullenly. "I haven't done anything to be proud of. As I see it, I've just torn whatever life I had to shreds."

Silence, in which he could feel inexplicable tension rising in the air.

"Self-pity is not going to help you, Steven!" Kal boomed suddenly, anger escaping the humorous, gentle façade that Steven had begun to take for granted lately. "This was your first battle – you have but been doused with a drop of the ocean of danger that the Raydevils present to the hopes of the survival of the Magic Clan!"

Steven back-pedalled involuntarily, gaping at the furious creature, which ploughed on. "You have much greater – and infinitely more dangerous – battles yet to fight, and much, much more knowledge that you have yet to breach." Kal seemed to settle slightly at this point. "Angry girlfriends and broken friendships are going to be the least of your worries, now."

There was silence after that – Kal was obviously expecting him to say something. "I- I'm sorry, Kal," the boy finally mumbled. "I guess… guess that I _was_ being rather self-centred…"

Kal's eyes inexplicably softened. "I should be the one apologising," the firsk said, its change of tone and mood even more frightening than the sudden anger. "I'm afraid I forgot…" Kal shook his head, and in a whirlwind of light, disappeared into his Book.

In spite of himself, Steven's eyebrows rose. _I guess I'm not the only one with issues here…_

With a sigh, he stood up and stretched, thinking over what Kal had said. Though he still believed that Kal had had no right to explode at him like that, there _was_ some truth in his words. Maybe he was not seeing the bigger picture. Maybe he was being narrow-minded in his perception of the consequences of his new responsibility. Maybe he was making much ado about nothing. Maybe the fight with Bruce had been nothing more than a warning – a portent, informing him of direr times yet to come.

Maybe.

Steven flung himself back on to his bed (and immediately regretted it, for it _was_ rather wet), and closed his eyes. He had had enough of thinking for one day. What was to come, will come.

He'd see to it when it did.

* * *

Not so far away, a cell-phone rang in a seemingly empty office, the shrill sound echoing within its confines.

Its owner picked it up – a hand grasping from the shadows.

"_It has failed, am I right?_"

The owner listened for a while, lips curving in a knowing smile, before speaking once again. "_I see – I have felt that, as well. We will now acquaint him with what exactly he fears to face, yes?_"

More silence, another smile, and the owner finally replaced the phone on the table. A red aura slowly developed over thin, delicate, exceedingly pale hands, intensifying many times over until the interior of the office resembled feverish nightmares of the pits of hell.

"_This is just the beginning, Steven Wakefield_."

_**Finis

* * *

**_

**_A/N:_** And so, on that ominous note, we end the first part of the Rebirth series. I started this more than a year ago – at least six months before I even joined FF.N, and it's been a blast all the way. A million thanks to all those who've reviewed – though sparse, your reviews are very precious and great encouragement. Thank you.

The second part of this series, Rebirth II: Harsh Lessons, ought to be up, well, soon. I plan Rebirth to have six stories. In fact, Rebirth is only the first part of the huge trilogy I plan to write, each part having six stories each. Hopefully I'll be able to see it to its end.


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